My Spark Still Shines
by MadnessJones
Summary: TF Prime: A Vehicon begins to question his allegiance and his own existence when he has strange dreams. The Autobots soon learn that there is something very sinister about Megatron's drone horde.
1. New Recruits

_Author's Notes: I know how irresponsible this looks! I probably shouldn't work on two TF Prime fics so close together, but this was my better TFP idea, and since nobody minds that I write these along with G1 fics I decided to post it. I suppose there are a lot of Vehicon fics out there, but I'm going to do my best to set this one apart. I had the idea and it won't go away, so I have to write it! It is my duty as a writer, and someone who apparently suffers from a plot bunny infestation. Please review, favorite, and follow to see more :)_

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Chapter 1

New Recruits

Praxus was in ruins. The Decepticons had up to this point focused on small-scale attacks against council strongholds, but now Megatron had finally done the unthinkable. He had attacked a city filled with innocent Cybertronians that weren't even involved in the war. All because it housed a large number of Autobot sympathizers.

A young Autobot named Prowl was the only one left as far as he could tell. He hid under the rubble and hoped his concealment would not be revealed by the enemy. He saw that several Decepticons were digging through the rubble searching for loot and survivors to capture. It made him sick to his tanks. He knew there was a good chance they could find him if he didn't move.

Megatron, meanwhile, strolled through the ruins without a care in the world, and no pity for the fallen victims. By his side was his loyal subordinate Soundwave, who had taken a vow of silence to not utter a word until the Decepticons ruled Cybertron. He showed Megatron the results of the attack on his visor, and Megatron smiled wickedly; showing off his razor sharp teeth.

Prowl could see the warlord from where he was hiding, and only hoped that he would not be seen. Prowl was in training to be a police officer, but a civilian cop was no match for a group of hardened soldiers. Besides, he wasn't even a cop yet. Even as he hid he listened for the spark beat of his little brother. Bluestreak couldn't be dead. He just couldn't be! He was Prowl's responsibility, and the older Praxian had failed. He had been helpless to save little Bluestreak.

He heard and felt nothing. Bluestreak wasn't in the crumbled building anymore. He was dead. Prowl was the only survivor of Praxus. He was alone.

He waited until he saw no more Decepticons in range, and then he made a run for it. He calculated the routes the Decepticons would take, the routes that would be largely abandoned, and all of the nearby cities. He determined that the bridge would be blocked, so he couldn't make it to Iacon. He would have to go in the opposite direction; toward Tyger Pax.

Prowl ran for several minutes before he had to stop and hide behind some rubble. He heard someone talking, and craned his neck cables to see who it was. It was the elite seeker trine! Their commander, Starscream, was ruthless and cruel. He would surely use Prowl for target practice, and that was if he was being merciful! The young car-former stalled his intakes and hoped he wouldn't overheat waiting for the flying Decepticons to leave. Wait, _flying_ Decepticons…

Prowl gulped as he dared to venture a look upward. Good, the skies were clear. He had forgotten about the flying soldiers, and his helm was exposed! He had to find another cover, and quick!

He scanned the area, and saw a mass of rubble with a space just large enough for him to fit inside of a couple kliks to his left. He peeked over the rubble. Starscream was distracted and not even looking his way. Perfect.

Prowl steeled himself, and then ran toward the rubble! He ran as quietly as he could, and made it to the rubble! Before he could squeeze inside, however, he saw a long skinny shadow over his frame!

He hesitantly looked to see who it was, and he saw a dark blue seeker of the same design as Starscream! Which one was he? Prowl couldn't remember which seeker was which. He only recognized Starscream. The Decepticon had a blaster trained on Prowl's helm, and a look on his face plate that said he would fire if Prowl so much as thought about challenging him.

Prowl knew there was no hope. He was an Autobot, his father was an Autobot, and all of his friends were Autobots. There was no way he could talk his way out of this.

"On your feet, Autobot!" For such a slim seeker, this mech had a booming voice.

"Sir, I ask you to kill me quickly," Prowl said as he stood, "I have no information. I am only a citizen. I know I will die by your hand, I only ask that you don't torture me. I've already lost my younger brother to your attack. That is torture enough."

The Decepticon seemed to consider his words. Prowl didn't close his optics. These were his final astro seconds of life, and he wanted to experience every last one. The seeker looked back to see if his companions were watching him. Satisfied that they weren't, the seeker turned back to the Autobot.

"Go," The seeker said in a low voice that could barely be heard.

Prowl raised his optic ridges; certain he heard wrong.

The seeker nodded, and gestured toward the direction of the city of Tyger Pax. Prowl didn't know when this Decepticon had grown a conscience, but he was grateful for it. He bowed slightly to the seeker to bid him farewell, and then quietly skittered away into the dusk. He wouldn't learn until much later that the Decepticon's name was Thundercracker, and that was only after he had to face him in battle several vorns later.

* * *

Megatron went to the makeshift fortress in Praxus, a metallic box that had survived the attack. The Decepticons were ordered not to attack it since this was the location of one of Shockwave's labs. Megatron smiled victoriously when he looked around at the dark and foreboding laboratory. This was only one of many places where Shockwave twisted the laws of nature of the benefit of his master.

"Shockwave!" Megatron called out into the nearly pitch black room, and was rewarded by the light of a single red optic in the distance, "Shockwave, there you are. So, did Praxus have enough resources for you to make more soldiers?"

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Shockwave nodded, and then led his master to a portion of the lab that was fully lit, "The troops brought back enough raw materials for 42 new Vehicons. This batch is comprised of four-wheeled vehicles. I have built them to your exact specifications."

Megatron and Shockwave stood before a conveyor belt that was attached to a machine that housed the mechanisms that would build the Vehicons. Seven of the new purple-colored drones were already assembled and ready for orders.

"Excellent, Shockwave. Your idea for disposable troops will reduce Decepticon casualties by a great deal," Megatron commended his top scientist, "Are you sure you can only get 42?"

"I am certain, Lord Megatron," Shockwave replied without offense, "The troops have also brought back much treasure from their attack. There was energon stored in one of the main warehouses, along with cobalt, copper, and some rather expensive polishes. The stock is stored in the back if you wish to inspect it, Lord Megatron."

"Perhaps later," Megatrom said with a grin, "First I want to program our new troops."

* * *

His audio sensors onlined first. Then his optic visor. He saw color. It was stunning. Black, and purple, and silver. So much color! He saw two mechs standing in front of him. He looked to either side. There were lots of identical mechs standing by his side. He probably looked like them. If he didn't then why would he be standing with them?

So this was life, huh? It was a little scary, but also exciting!

"My Vehicons, you will approach me for your programming in the order you were conceived," a large imposing silver figure ordered them.

The Vehicon didn't move. Something inside him told him it wasn't time yet. Instead he watched as the first Vehicon bowed before his leader; _their_ leader. He introduced himself as PR-01, and was given a mission by the silver leader.

 _Wait, what's my designation?_ The Vehicon thought nervously.

He accessed his internal data storage unit. There wasn't a lot in there. Probably because he was just built. He did manage to find his designation though. PR-35. Okay, so he was 35th. That meant he had to wait until the other 34 had received their missions. He could do that. Just stand there and wait. In silence. With nobody caring about his welfare. _Wow_ , this was boring!

It took almost a groon for the leader, designation Megatron, to accept him. PR-35 approached calmly, but inside he was a bundle of exposed wires. He _really_ wanted his master to like him.

"I am PR-35 awaiting your orders, Lord Megatron," PR-35 copied what everyone else had said except for his designation. This was going really well.

"PR-35, you are hereby assigned to serve as a military class drone," Megatron ordered (not servant class, yay!), "Your first task is to assist in the construction of a control module for my new warship; the Nemesis. Report to Shockwave for further programming. Dismissed."

That was incredible! The leader spoke to him! If he'd touched him PR-35 probably would've offlined! He was going to work on a warship! That job sounded really important. He was going to do good and important things, and the leader was going to love him for it! He was so happy when Shockwave brought him into the medbay with the others to be imprinted with their tasks. This was the best (and only) day of his life!

If only he had known the millennia of pain and oppression he would have to endure.


	2. Uncertainty

_Author's Notes: I know this chapter is short, but I've been too busy with paid writing work to write much fanfiction lately. Hopefully my schedule will clear up soon. Anyway, I've received a lot of positive feedback for this story, so I wanted to get another chapter out while the ideas were still fresh. I think this is going to be a good one!_

 _Also, **CodenameAgentC** asked if PR-35 was supposed to spell a name like Steve or Joseph or something. No, it doesn't. I didn't go with that method of naming Vehcions. I instead went with the idea that their letters indicate where they were built (exp. PR for Praxus, TGP for Tyger Pax, etc.) and their numbers indicate in what order they came off the assembly line (PR-35 was 35th). Anyway, hope that clears up any confusion, and thank you for reading :)_

* * *

Chapter 2

Uncertainty

The vorns passed quickly, at least it seemed that way to PR-35 at this stage in his life. When he was built Cybertron was a place full of promise and dreams of conquest on behalf of Lord Megatron. Now their world was destroyed, their ship was stationed on a planet called earth, and Megatron barely clung to life in a medbay with no medic. As much as PR-35 lived to serve the Decepticon cause, Megatron's condition was not what truly concerned the Vehicon. It was the Autobots that were stationed on earth.

He had taken down many Autobots in his time; culling the weak one by one. Now though, only the strongest remained. These Autobots were led by the Prime himself, and rumor had it they couldn't be killed. Some Vehicons even believed the Autobots carried humans around to give them super strength and aggression. They certainly seemed stronger and angrier when a Vehicon got too close to the Autobots' living treasures.

As if their strength wasn't enough, it now seemed like they were going out of their way to take out as many Vehicons as possible, and it all started with an Autobot named Cliffjumper. PR-35 remembered that day well. The red Autobot was brought in by AT-67 and HL-04; injured and broken. Starscream had relished the moment when he used his bare claw to impale the Autobot to death. Talk about giving him the finger! Since Starscream was a flier, did that also count as flipping Cliffjumper the bird? PR-35 would distract himself with such inane thoughts to drive away the feeling of impending doom from his spark. The Autobots were _really_ out for energon now.

"Hey, PR-35!" His friend TGP-538 called out to him, "Did you hear the news?"

"You mean about KL-122 getting his helm smashed in by Bulkhead?" PR-35 replied, "Yes, I heard. I really liked that guy. It's such a shame he died."

"You like everybody!" TGP-538 scoffed, "No, I mean did you hear about the new arrivals that boarded the ship yesterday?"

"More Vehicons? Hooray!" PR-35 cheered. Despite his experience he could still be a bit excitable, "I hope they're Eradicons. Or standard Vehicon fliers. We need more fliers. I think our new leader would like that. Oh, wait! Is it too soon to accept Starscream as our leader? Lord Megatron might wake up, right? Then again if he doesn't and I wasn't quick enough to accept Lord Starscream then I might get thrown out the window while we're up in the air and die!"

"PR-35. Shut up," TGP-538 ordered dryly, " _Focus_. The new arrivals aren't drones. They're officers. More specifically medics. Now, _medic_ also means _torturer_ , so we really need to get on their good side. Understand?"

"Medics?" PR-35 repeated, "Does that mean Lord Megatron will live?"

"Why do you care? He doesn't care about us," TGP-538 pointed out.

"Yes he does!" PR-35 argued defensively, "Our master commissioned our very lives for the sake of saving Cybertron. When that didn't work he could've ordered us all scrapped, but he didn't! He sacrificed himself for our cause, and he's lying in a medbay right now because of that! TG, our master took the time to program each and every one of us. He deserves the best medical care that can be provided for him."

"Yeah, well good luck with _that_ ," TGP-538 rolled his optics, "They're sending a glorified cosmetic surgeon. A plate doctor! They couldn't find anybody else. Too many Decepticon medics are sent out into the field, and most don't come back. I'm pretty sure the only reason this medic is still alive is because his nurse is a real bruiser. Their names are Knockout and Breakdown. Those names make them sound like they have a real good berthside manner, huh?"

"As long as they can fix Lord Megatron, I don't care what they're called," PR-35 said in a low voice, "Even if they can't...I just hope they try. Officers can be a tricky lot. They have the chance to replace Megatron, or at least get promoted if he dies. I wish they would let us Vehicons work on Lord Megatron. If I was his medic I would do everything in my power to save him."

"You wanna be a medic? We're drones, you idiot," TGP-538 reminded him in an annoyed tone of voice, "You know PR, sometimes I think you talk too much."

With that TGP-538 walked away; leaving PR-35 with his thoughts. That was never a good thing. PR-35's thoughts had a way of tormenting him when he least expected it. Usually, the worst time was when he recharged. He would often have nightmares that involved images of Autobots breaking him, tearing him limb from limb, or hacking him to pieces with their swords. He often woke up his roommates when he screamed himself awake.

* * *

A few weeks passed with little happening. The news everyone had been waiting for was finally announced: Megatron was finally awake! That was also the day it was announced that Starscream was in traction. Typical.

Despite this command-altering news, not much changed for the Vehicons. They went on missions same as always. They patrolled the halls same as always. They were ignored by their superiors same as always. PR-35 was okay with this. He had lived this routine for his entire existence, and he was happy to be back in his comfortable little rut.

He did notice something that was making him nervous, however. More and more troops were being killed by the Autobots. Sure, the officers were unaffected, but the Vehicon forces were dwindling at a slow but noticeable rate.

This frightened PR-35 to his core. What if he was called on a mission? Sure, he had survived this long, but something was different about this planet and these Autobots. They seemed...determined. It was the only word he could think of that fit. They were determined to rid this world of the Decepticons. The 'Cons got more of the energon stores, and definitely had numbers on their side, so PR-35 knew logically he had little to worry about. It didn't matter though. He was worried.

Over the vorns PR-35 had studied his fellow Vehicons and figured out which ones lived verses which ones died. He had built his strategy based on the data. A close combat fight with the Autobots was doomed to failure. PR-35 was not strong, and he knew it. Instead he focused his efforts on targeting and long-range assault. Vehicons were never distinguished from their peers, but if anyone had been paying attention they would've known that PR-35 was an incredible sharp shooter. He never missed his target, and he was rarely seen by the enemy.

That was why PR-35 found himself at the training room shooting holographic targets to relieve some of his tension. He had roused out of a heavy recharge when he dreamt the Autobot Bumblebee had ripped out his voice box for revenge and then smashed his face in. He just needed to shoot something to make the images of those bulging bug optics go away.

PR-35 was halfway through his holographic targets when the door opened to admit another soldier. PR-35 didn't even bother to look away from his practice. Whoever it was likely didn't want to see him. If it was another Vehicon they probably wanted to avoid his constant chatter. If it was an officer then he was as good as invisible anyway. Either way, he was free to shoot.

When PR-35 was finished and the holograms faded away, he started cleaning the gun barrel attached to his right arm.

"That was some pretty impressive shooting," an unfamiliar voice commended him.

PR-35 turned around to see who it was, and was floored to see it was an officer! He froze at the sight of this guy. This mech was almost as wide as he was tall, had a fierce looking red face with yellow optics, a white helm, and a blue boxy frame. He had tires, so he was a grounder. There weren't too many grounders outside of Vehicons that were allowed to serve in Megatron's inner circle, so that could only mean one thing.

"Are you one of the medics, sir?" PR-35 asked nervously.

"Yeah, I'm Breakdown; Knockout's assistant," Breakdown replied amiably, "What's your designation?"

"Why?" PR-35 yelped despite the friendly tone Breakdown used. Superiors only asked your designation if you were about to be punished Or sent on a suicide mission.

"Hey, calm down buddy," Breakdown replied soothingly, "I just thought you could use a friend. Of course, if you'd rather I just left you alone, I will."

"Buddy?" PR-35 said the word quickly, as if his vocalizer was racing past his processor.

It was unheard of for a superior to speak to a mere drone with such respect. Drones don't have sparks. They weren't actually Cybertronians. They only existed to serve Megatron and prevent valuable soldiers from being thrown into unnecessary danger. PR-35 couldn't believe this mech, a mech with a real spark and an actual name, wanted to be his buddy. He knew he should not forget his place. He knew he should salute respectfully and return to duty. He knew what he _should_ do, but he also knew this was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

"Don't go," PR-35 said softly, "We can be friends, if you want to, sir. I'll bet being a medical assistant must be fascinating. Please tell me all about it."

"Sure thing, pal," Breakdown nodded as a casual grin graced his face plates, "I'll tell you about it over some energon. Oh, I've got to tell you about this one femme Knockout tried to repair back on Cybertron! It was a riot! He was trying to scan her chassis for a wound, but she thought he was trying to grope her. Well, I don't have to tell you she went all Chaos Age on his skid plates! I had to pull her off Knockout before she ripped off his dermal plating. I wound up going on two dates with her after that happened. Anyway, there was also the time when…"


	3. Remembrance Day

_Author's Notes: And now for something different! In this chapter we'll get to see what the Autobots are up to! I know I should have updated before now. I really like this story idea and it deserves more attention. Problem is, I've had a lot of ideas lately, and there's only so much time in a day. That being said, this fic is very much active and there are a lot more chapters coming up! So please favorite and follow to read the rest of the story, and please review since I love to hear from you guys :)_

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Chapter 3

Remembrance Day

Jack, Miko, and Raf felt a little awkward driving to the Autobot base on this particular day. Normally they rode with their guardians. Raf enjoyed talking about science and planet Cybertron with Bumblebee, Jack and Arcee enjoyed the desert drive together, and Miko loved stunt driving with Bulkhead. Today however, they were riding in Ratchet's ambulance alt mode, and conversation was nearly impossible with the cranky Doc Bot (as Miko called him).

"So, um, Ratchet," Jack stammered uncomfortably, "Why didn't our 'Bots pick us up again? I'm not sure I understand."

"It's Remembrance Day," Ratchet said as if that should explain everything, "They don't have time to fool around with you when they're trying to get the base ready."

"Remembrance Day? Is there going to be like a party or something?" Miko asked excitedly.

"No, it's a solemn occasion to remember our relatives that have been killed during the war with the Decepticons," Ratchet replied bluntly.

"Oh...Bummer," Miko replied as she slumped her head in her hand and looked out the window with a bored expression on her face.

"I'm curious," Raf interjected himself into the conversation, "What exactly do you do on Remembrance Day? Has it existed since before the war, or was it created because of the war?"

"Good question, Rafael," Ratchet replied; his tone softening at Raf's gentle studious questions, "Remembrance Day was created shortly after the war began as a way to honor family members that were killed as a direct result of combat or siege. We were sure the day would be officially recognized by the new Autobot government once the war was over, but here we are, thousands of vorns later, and the war still rages on. You asked about our traditions, right?"

Raf nodded.

"Well, it's quite simple really," Ratchet explained, "Each 'Bot will place a table against the wall with their name on a banner across said table. Each table will have photos of and personal items belonging to the deceased relatives. We used to have friends' photos placed there as well, but as the war dragged on and the body count grew it became impractical, so now it's family only. This will be the first year Cliffjumper's picture will be displayed."

"Is Cliffjumper related to any of you?" Jack asked.

"Sort of," Ratchet replied hesitantly, "He was engaged to Arcee, but they never had the chance to formally bond. I've heard she also puts up photos of her old partner Tailgate. It isn't what most mechs and femmes do, but I understand why she does it. Arcee was adopted shortly after the war began, and she doesn't know who her spark parents were. She was raised by Ironhide and his mate Chromia, and they're both still alive and fighting out there...somewhere."

"Wow, I never pictured Arcee as having parents," Jack said in awe, "I guess I never really thought about any of you as having parents and children."

"Is it really so strange?" Ratchet asked, "After all, legally Bumblebee is considered to be Optimus Prime's son."

" _What_!?" Raf exclaimed; surprised.

"No way!" Miko cried out excitedly, "Prime is a father? Does he have any other kids? Are they as cool as Bee? Does he have any girls? Can they kick butt like their daddy?"

"Miko, shh!" Ratchet hissed irritably, "First of all, Bumblebee was the last sparkling born from the Allspark. Sparklings born from the Allspark can be adopted by anyone. Back during the Golden Age you had to be pre-approved to raise a sparkling before you could have one from the Allspark, but of course who would refuse the request of the last of the Primes? Optimus took Bumblebee in to protect him from Megatron. Also, yes, Optimus had adopted another sparkling before he adopted Bumblebee. He and his bondmate Elita One went to the Allspark since Elita couldn't have sparklings of her own. She had to be rebuilt after Megatron tried to assassinate her."

"Harsh," Miko commented.

"I didn't know Optimus Prime was married," Raf replied.

"Well, don't make a big deal out of it," Ratchet said soberly, "Optimus lost Elita many years ago. After that his oldest son Hound was killed along with Hound's newspark, Drill Bit. Optimus and Bumblebee will likely share a table as they do every year since they have lost the same family."

None of the kids knew how to respond to that one. Raf had no idea that Bumblebee had lost his mother, brother, and infant nephew to the Decepticons. He didn't know if he should ask what happened to them or not. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his friend in any way he could.

* * *

When they arrived at the base the kids could see that there were red streamers with Cybertronian glyphs strung all over the base. They didn't know what the streamers said, but it didn't seem too important for the moment.

The tables were prepared just as Ratchet had said they would be. The medic left the kids as soon as Bumblebee came to greet them. Optimus was preparing the final touches on their family's table, so Bumblebee was able to lead the kids along and explain the decorations while Raf translated.

Jack stopped at Arcee's table a few minutes after he arrived and sure enough, there were only two pictures. One was a painting of Cliffjumper, and it looked like he was mugging for the artist. Jack smiled even though he never knew Cliffjumper personally. He knew this guy was a character, and he knew this mech meant a lot to Arcee. The second was a picture of Tailgate; a light blue and light green mech that looked like he transformed into a small truck. He was holding weapons and smiling in front of a ruined building with Arcee standing next to him smirking with her arms crossed over her chassis.

Miko was already bored as Raf and Bumblebee started talking and forgetting to tell her what they were talking about. She decided to look for Bulkhead, and she saw him in front of his family's table. When she saw the pictures and items, she visibly gaped. She counted 10 different 'Bots! How had Bulkhead lost 10 people important to him and not even bothered to tell her?

"Hey, Miko!" Bulkhead greeted her with that same warm smile as always, "Give me a hand here, will you? I'm trying to find a spot for this slide whistle on the table, but it looks like there isn't any space left. Could you rearrange a few things for me?"

"Sure thing, Bulk!" Miko replied as he helped her onto the table, "You got a lot of pictures here. Who's the blue and orange guy with all the rust spots?"

"That's my old team captain from the Wreckers, Seaspray," Bulkhead said amiably, but then grew sad as he said, "He died this year. I still can't believe it. That's the seventh Wrecker confirmed dead that we know of. I know there are more, but we haven't found the bodies."

"I thought only relatives were allowed on these things," Miko pointed out.

"Hey, the Wreckers _are_ family!" Bulkhead shouted defensively, "We were closer than brothers. Besides, three of them were my spark family."

"Really?" Miko asked; trying to change the subject slightly, "Which ones?"

"Well, this is my bondmate, Waterfall," Bulkhead said as he pointed to a photo of a short purple round femme, "She and I met when I joined the Wreckers. I already had a son by the Allspark before then. He's over there. That's my oldest son, Brawn."

Miko looked at the photo of the armored 'Bot with olive green and bronze plating, and the same short cyan optics as his father. They both even had the same confident eager look on their face plates.

"Brawn and I joined the Wreckers together," Bulkhead reminisced with a smile, "I tell you Miko, that kid was a natural born 'Con crusher. After we lost the Allspark I thought I'd never have more sparklings, but Waterfall and I had two. This-," Bulkhead said as he held up a picture of a periwinkle and orange 'Bot scowling at the camera, "-Was my youngest son Huffer. He joined the Wreckers as soon as he was old enough. He always got the job done, no matter what was asked of him."

"Do you have any photos where he's smiling?" Miko asked.

"Nah, Huffer wasn't the smiling type," Bulkhead replied with a chuckle, "He took after my mother, Saline. She _never_ smiled. My sire, Klunker, smiled all the time. They looked like they didn't belong together, but they always got along. That's them over there." He pointed to a picture of a rusty cargo-former and a tiny grey and black drill-bot, "My parents were mine workers. My mother was designed to be very small so she could crawl through tiny crevices in the tunnels. Scrap, she probably wasn't any bigger than you! I get my size from my sire. He was always plagued with rust, but it was the benign kind that doesn't kill you."

"Aww, who's that?" Miko asked as she pointed to a picture of Waterfall holding a tiny white and gold sparkling.

"That was my daughter, Sunrise," Bulkhead sighed as he smiled a sad smile, "She never made it past the sparkling stage of life. Decepticons raided the Wrecker base and killed Waterfall, Brawn, Huffer, Sunrise, Kup, and Springer. Kup was our commander before he was replaced by Ultra Magnus. We're pretty sure Ultra Magnus is alive somewhere, but we don't know where."

"Which ones are Kup and Springer?" Miko asked, and Bulkhead pointed to an older pale green 'Bot and a bright green mech with blades coming out of his back and helm, "Oh. So who's that guy?"

"That's Gears," Bulkhead replied, "He was one of the Wreckers. He got killed when a landmine tore him to shreds. He wasn't the best fighter, but he was very good at getting us whatever supplies we needed by skillfully trading with other species. I don't know how he did it. He had the disposition of a cactus. Still, I'll miss him just as much as the rest of them."

Miko then suddenly jumped up on Bulkhead's hand, climbed up his arm, and stood on his shoulder so she could hug his helm. Bulkhead was surprised by how quickly she got up there, but he smiled and returned the hug by wrapping his finger around Miko's waist. He had lost a lot of family over the vorns, but he continued to gain family by being with Team Prime.

* * *

Hours passed as the kids listened to the Autobots tell their stories about their families. They talked about the good times and even spoke of the deaths of their loved ones. Jack found it strange that Optimus Prime had once been a grandfather, and Miko asked a million questions about Bulkhead's family since he didn't seem to mind sharing his past with her. Arcee didn't speak much, but she didn't go out of her way to avoid the subject either. She knew she could trust the kids.

Raf walked away from the group for a while to get a glass of water. He looked at the tables lining the wall and he looked at the Bots sitting on the floor talking with the kids about old times. Raf thought something looked off, but he could figure out what it was for a few minutes. Then it hit him...four tables. There were four tables, and there were four Autobots in the room. Where was Ratchet? Where was Ratchet's table? Surely the oldest Autobot on the base had at least _one_ someone to remember!

Raf left the gathering and searched the halls for Ratchet. He found the old medic in his berth room. Sure enough, there was Ratchet's table; tucked carefully into a corner with two photos and several items adorning it. Ratchet sat there staring at the photos and venting air heavily. Raf felt like an intruder on Ratchet's moment, so he turned to leave, but his footsteps were overheard by the medic who turned to look at him.

"Rafael, what are you doing here?" Ratchet asked in a guarded tone of voice, "Do you need something? Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone is fine, Ratchet," Raf replied, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I'll leave now if you want."

"No, no, you might as well come in," Ratchet replied as he opened his door wider for Raf to enter, "I suppose Remembrance Day isn't a time to isolate yourself. I just don't like to display these things in front of everyone. Even after all these years, it's still hard for me to talk about it."

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," Raf replied reassuringly, "We can just sit here, if you want. Can I at least ask who they are?"

Ratchet sighed wearily, and then picked up Raf and placed him on the table with his precious objects. There was a photo of Ratchet with two younger mechs. One was black and white with doorwings similar to Bumblebee's, and the other was a sparkling that was grey and red with identical doorwings. They both had orange chevrons on their helms just like Ratchet. Ratchet himself looked younger in the photo, and like the weight of the world hadn't yet crushed him.

"The older mech on the left is my oldest son, Prowl," Ratchet said as he pointed, "The sparkling is my youngest son, Bluestreak. I got them both from the Allspark. Prowl was always a very serious-minded and studious mech. In some ways you remind me of Prowl. He and I both joined the Autobots after the attack on Praxus, which destroyed our home..."

Ratchet stopped talking then, and it looked like he was about to break down and cry. He rubbed his temples with his hands and vented to try to compose himself. Raf had never seen Ratchet like this before. It made him wish he hadn't brought it up so he could spare Ratchet these painful memories.

"He was just a _sparkling_!" Ratchet finally shouted; a wailing sound that seemed more of a release than actual words, "I should have _been_ there! I shouldn't have left them _alone_! Why couldn't I…?"

"Ratchet, please calm down," Raf said softly as he ran up to the medic and rubbed Ratchet's hand; which was now on the table, "You don't have to say anything more. We can talk about something else."

"No," Ratchet said in a firmer tone of voice than before, "No, this is what today is for. I cannot forget my sons. I cannot forget what happened. Not today. Not _ever_."

"What happened?" Raf finally worked up the courage to ask.

"Well, before the attack on Praxus, the Decepticons weren't taken seriously," Ratchet explained, "I mean sure, they were a group of terrorists, but we were sure the council was their only target. No one imagined them targeting civilians. Well, at that time I was one of the premiere medical professors in the region, and I was asked to give a lecture on a new type of fringe-wire surgery in Iacon. Iacon was 45 kliks away from my home in Praxus, and normally I would take my sons with me. Prowl, however, had an exam for the police academy on the same orn I was giving my lecture, and he begged me to let him babysit Bluestreak so they could stay home while I went to Iacon. Prowl was a responsible young mech, so I was sure I could trust him to take good care of his little brother…"

Ratchet vented another few intakes before he continued, "Well...I was in Iacon when the word got out about the attack. Praxus was bombed by the Decepticons, and all the survivors were killed in the aftermath because Praxus supported the Prime."

"They were both killed?" Raf asked; horrified.

"No, Prowl survived," Ratchet replied soberly, "However, Bluestreak was killed in the initial explosion. He had just started primary school...he was building a model of the golden towers of Iacon. I know it shouldn't still be this raw in my processor, but I can't help it. He was just a sparkling! Why would the Decepticons want to kill innocent families and helpless sparklings? At the time I didn't understand why. I'm not sure I do now, but I do understand one thing: Megatron is evil. No one with a conscience would force their entire planet to go extinct just to prove a point. Nothing is worth the price we've all paid. Bluestreak was only the beginning."

"So, is Prowl still alive?" Raf asked.

"Sadly, no," Ratchet shook his head tiredly, "He died protecting his unit from an attack orchestrated by Starscream and his group of seekers. He might not have made it, but he saved 27 other mechs that day. One of those mechs was Bumblebee. I'm very proud of the mech Prowl grew up to be. He was the kind of son any Cybertronian would want."

"I think he would be proud to have a father like you," Raf replied with a small smile, "Team Prime would fall apart without you."

Ratchet smiled down at the boy, truly touched by the young human's words. Raf was indeed a very good friend.

"So Ratchet, what was Bluestreak like?" Raf asked.

"Well, I remember he loved to talk," Ratchet said wistfully as he placed Prowl's police badge on the table, "He wanted to make friends with everyone. He also loved animals and crystals. Problem was, he had trouble figuring out which animals were pets and which ones were vermin. One time he brought home a turbo rat from the gutter. Well, I found that thing in my berth one morning, and Bluestreak…"

They spent the next couple hours with Ratchet telling stories about his sons and Raf listening and asking questions. Normally Ratchet didn't participate in the ceremony like other Autobots did, but today he was glad Raf had forced him into it. It was nice to remember the good times and all the wonderful qualities his sons had. If only they could stop the Decepticons so no one else had to go through what he and the other Autobots had been through.


	4. Who Was That?

_Author's Notes: I've had this chapter in my head for some time now, but I'm still a little disappointed at how it turned out. I mean, it's okay, but I feel it could've been better. Oh well. The dream sequence turned out pretty good. I always enjoy writing dream sequences because I can go as crazy as I want. In dreams anything is possible! Thank you for reading my fic, and I hope you will continue to read to see what happens to our poor little drone :)_

* * *

Chapter 4

Who Was That?

PR-35 had gone into recharge knowing he would likely have nightmares. That wasn't uncommon for the poor drone. Whenever he had a hard day it would usually manifest itself as bad dreams. This night was no exception, but on this night his dreams managed to surprise even him...

PR-35 stood in a spotlight amid a dark room. His visor couldn't adjust, and he didn't know where he was. Suddenly the lights came on, and he was standing in a courtroom before Optimus Prime, who had his battle mask on.

"The court hereby liquidates all of Megatron's assets," Optimus Prime said in an authoritative voice, "Bailiff, liquidate him."

Then Bulkhead was instantly there. He pulled a lever which caused molten metal to be poured all over PR-35; turning him into a metallic liquid paste! PR-35 melted down into a drain that was in the middle of the room, and when he resolidified he was falling down a large pipe and crashing into thin slabs of metal!

He couldn't move, and he could barely hear himself scream! Then Breakdown was falling with him and looking at him with a sarcastic expression on his face plate.

"I see the trial went well," Breakdown said sardonically, "You know you deserve this. The Prime should have killed you. You're not a drone. Megatron pulls your strings and suppresses your spark, and you _let him_. You deserve this."

PR-35 watched as Breakdown gained momentum and disappeared from sight. PR-35 continued to fall until he landed on the ground outside. He looked around, and it was a burning city with red skies and destroyed buildings. He looked around, and he saw a sparkling trapped under a building whimpering and crying for help. PR-35 went to pull the sparkling out, but when he did the sparkling started looking up at him and crying!

"No, please!" The sparkling wailed, "Not Decepticons! _No_! I didn't do anything!"

"I never said you did," PR-35 replied to the sparkling in a distant tone of voice.

"Don't make me go! Please!" The sparkling begged, "Please, just give me back my city! I'll do anything!"

PR-35 was confused. Who was this random sparkling, and why did he think the drone had anything to do with his city being gone? Where were they going? He didn't understand.

Then he saw the rubble of the city come to life and crawl all over his body! It was trying to eat him! The city itself was trying to _devour_ him! PR-35 struggled to break free, but it was no use. The city had him in its clutches!

"Goodbye," The sparkling looked sad as it waved goodbye at him.

" _No_!" PR-35 cried out, "What's happening?"

" _Goodbye_ …" The voice of the sparkling echoed as he slowly disintegrated and became part of the rubble that was eating PR-35.

Everything was black. Then he onlined his visor and saw a stage play in front of him. A white and purple mech with fancy silver detailing was singing about the misfortune of life as glitter particles wafted all around him. It was the grand finale. PR-35 was so excited to see the big fireworks show that would mark the end of the play.

"This is so cool!" PR-35 squealed in delight.

"Shh!" The 'Bot next to him shushed him, "You don't want to miss it, do you?"

PR-35 turned to see the smiling face of an Autobot, but for some strange reason he wasn't afraid. This wasn't an Autobot he had ever seen before. This one was white and orange with an orange chevron on his helm and small cyan colored optics. The Autobot looked ahead, so PR-35 did as well, and the fireworks were beautiful! So many colors popping and blasting all around them in a panorama of shapes and symbols! PR-35 wanted to cry...

"Thanks for bringing me here," PR-35 said to the Autobot.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," the mysterious Autobot replied as if this were a normal conversation, "We should go out to shows like this more often."

"I agree," a third mech, a black and white Autobot, interjected, "Perhaps next time we could go to a music festival. One of my friends at the academy is really interested in music, and he showed me this new band called Plastic Metal. They are quite good. Would you like to go?" He asked PR-35 specifically.

"Yes, I would like to go," PR-35 found himself saying, though for some reason he was sad despite how pleasant the occasion was, "I love you guys."

"We love you, too," The white and orange mech said gently as he hugged PR-35, "I need to take you boys home. I have to go to work tomorrow, and you have to obey Megatron."

"Huh?"

* * *

The chronometer buzzed inside PR-35's helm, and he awoke with a start! A dream. It was only a dream. Who _were_ those mechs? PR-35 always felt weird after dreams like that. It was strange when he dreamt of mechs that never existed, and yet in the dream they felt like his best friends or loved ones.

Oh well, PR-35 didn't have time to dwell on his dreams. He had to get to work. He was supposed to polish Megatron's armor today, and then go on patrol around the Nemesis. He didn't have a moment to spare.

He strode down the hall and looked at the different Vehicons milling around that day. Most of them were practically brand new. Some weren't even two vorns old yet! PR-35 always felt like an ancient relic. He was the only surviving member of the original batch of Vehicons. That made him the oldest surviving drone in existence. He supposed without a spark it didn't matter since he wasn't truly alive, but it still felt like an accomplishment nonetheless.

PR-35 stopped when he noticed that TGP-538 and Breakdown were having a conversation. So, it wasn't a fluke. Breakdown really did like talking to Vehicons. That was so cool! PR-35 wished he could do something to repay Breakdown for his friendship. It was such an honor to have an officer for a friend.

"Hey guys, what are you doing?" PR-35 asked them, "Oh, wait! Was that too casual? Should I go back and do it again? Did I just insult a superior officer? Oh pit, I am _so_ sorry!"

"Hey, relax!" Breakdown chuckled, "Everything's cool. We were just trying to decipher this human song we found. Here, have a listen."

PR-35 tuned in to the frequency they were listening to, and heard a song sung by several human sparklings.

 _The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

 _round and round,_

 _round and round._

 _The wheels on the bus go round and round,_

 _all through the town!_

"I don't know about you, but I think she sound hot," Breakdown commented, "Busses are usually large, firm, and well-traveled."

"No way, it's gotta be a guy!" TGP-538 argued, "It talks about the windshield wipers! What kind of femme brags about her windshield wipers?"

"No, it's totally a femme," Breakdown contested, "She's carrying sparklings. No mech would willingly transport so many sparklings to school. What do you think, PR-35?"

"You, um, want to know what I think?" PR-35 nearly glitched at that notion. No one ever asked him about his opinion, "Well, I don't know what gender the bus is, but he or she sounds like a hard worker. They go all through the town even though they have a bunch of sparklings in tow. Not to mention their wheels must be so tired. I know my wheels get tired if I'm on them all day."

"That's a good point, buddy," Breakdown replied with a smile, "But I still think she's a chick."

Breakdown then got a comm from Knockout saying he needed assistance, so Breakdown had to excuse himself from the conversation. TGP-538 and PR-35 also went on their way to perform their respective duties. PR-35 didn't know what he did to deserve such cool friends, but he was surely grateful to have them.

* * *

It was a few weeks later when PR-35 found himself out in earth's sunshine on a hot day. He was one of several soldiers assigned to guard the servant class miners as they searched for energon. It was blistering hot and many of the Vehicons were upset at having to be out in this weather, but PR-35 was just happy to be allowed to go anywhere.

The Decepticons were running low on energon again, and Megatron was starting to get desperate. They were checking old mines for scraps, Soundwave was scanning for new energy sources on the planet, and the rations had become skimpy to an extreme degree. These miners had the future of the Decepticon army resting on their shoulder guards.

PR-35 rested for a moment in the shade of a boulder as he looked up at the clouds. Earth had such beautiful clouds. White made them look so pure, like blank paper or a brand new star. He wished he could physically smile, but his face plate conveyed the emotion well enough.

His peaceful mood was interrupted when he heard blaster fire and the familiar sound of an Autobot blade slashing through his comrades. He got up and looked over the boulder to see who was attacking. With his luck there would only be one Autobot. Any more than that and he was as doomed as everyone else.

He looked, and had to do a double take.

"It's alright, I'm an emergency vehicle," The Autobot casually stated before he ripped open his Vehicon victim with his bare servo blades.

That Autobot! It was the Autobot from PR-35's weird dream a few weeks back! He'd recognize those markings anywhere! This wasn't the kind Autobot from his dream, however. This Autobot was just as savage as the others, and seemed to relish the opportunity to kill drones.

PR-35 noticed the Autobot chasing one of the servants up the cliff, and decided to climb up there to see if he could get in a good long-range shot at the Autobot. Maybe he could still save the miner. It was already too late for the others.

PR-35 struggled to get up the cliff. He only had one hand. His right arm was attached to a gun instead of a hand, so he kept losing his balance and nearly falling! Warrior class Vehicons weren't made for such manual work.

Despite the difficulty PR-35 managed to get up the cliff. When he did he was horrified by what he saw. The Autobot had the miner, ICN-8675, pinned to the ground, and was holding an activated blowtorch to the poor drone's face! The miner screamed in agony, and PR-35 could hear ICN-8675 giving the Autobot information. PR-35 knew the Autobots scrapped Vehicons on a regular basis, but he had never seen a Vehicon _tortured_ for information before! It was revolting!

The Prime showed up with the rest of his team, and PR-35 feared this would be the moment when ICN-8675 would be killed, but still PR-35 did nothing. He knew if he managed to kill the torturer he would just die by the servos of the other Autobots, and while he would willingly die for any Decepticon warrior, it didn't seem worth it to die for the sake of another drone. They were just sparkless objects. They weren't worth avenging.

To PR-35's surprise, however, the Prime didn't order the Vehicon killed. The white and orange Autobot tried to kill ICN-8675, but the Prime actually stopped him, allowing the miner to escape!

PR-35 decided to follow the miner. If nothing else he could offer a shoulder guard to cry on. It was the least he could do after not shooting his torturer.

"ICN-8675, wait!" PR-35 called out, "It's just me, PR-35!"

"Huh? Oh, hey," ICN-8675 stopped running and looked embarrassed at having been seen in such a miserable state, "I gotta go tend to my mining drill. That's valuable Decepticon property."

"Hey, _you're_ valuable Decepticon property, and the Autobots just defaced you!" PR-35 shouted.

"Yeah, literally!" ICN-8675 snapped as he tilted his helm back as if trying to look like he was rolling his optics, "That crazy Autobot tried to _melt my face off_! I tried to be strong, but it hurt so bad! I thought Autobots didn't kill servants! He was going to _kill me_!"

ICN-8675 was sobbing at this point, and PR-35 felt awful. He knew ICN-8675 was just a drone, but he was still a mech PR-35 had known for deca-vorns. He should've defended him. He should've killed the Autobot even if it cost him his own life. He just couldn't though, and for once it wasn't just cowardice. There was something about that Autobot that drew PR-35's attention. Something about that mech was different. He just didn't know what.

"Come on, ICN-8675. Let's get you back to the Nemesis," PR-35 said as he put his left hand on the other mech's back, "I'll show you this cool song TGP-538 found about a gorgeous bus. Just picture her, and you'll feel better."

ICN-8675 smiled in his own Vehicon way, and the two left the scene. PR-35 wasn't sure if that would actually work, but he knew hope was a powerful tool for a Vehicon. Many Vehicons didn't have a long-term hope for anything, but short-term hope could be powerful too.

They went back to the Nemesis via ground bridge, and soon ICN-8675 was in Knockout's medbay getting his melted face fixed. PR-35 knew though that some scars would take longer to heal. ICN-8675 had never had to face an Autobot willing to kill him before. The sad part for PR-35 was that he couldn't remember his first time facing down an Autobot to the death. It had been too long ago.


	5. Just One Shot

_Author's Notes: I think this chapter turned out okay. I really thought the word count would be higher considering how much happens in this chapter. I guess this isn't montage style, but it's kind of close. Not much else to say except thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy and review this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

 _Update: I accidentally put the name Starscream where I meant to put the name Airachnid. I would like to thank **Cashagon** for pointing this out :)_

* * *

Chapter 5

Just One Shot

PR-35 made his rounds through the dark foreboding halls of the Nemesis. It was his job to patrol for potential invaders today, and like every day he had prayed that morning to not find any. He knew if he got close to the Autobots he stood no chance of surviving. His only decent technique was long-range shooting.

As he strolled along he suddenly heard music playing. It wasn't one of the weird alien songs those humans produced, but rather an old Cybertronian song from back when the planet was still standing. The song was even older than PR-35 himself.

 _Just one shot, and the party gets started_

 _Just one shot, and you'll believe you can fly_

 _Just one look, and you know you can't resist it_

 _Just one drink, and your life passes you by_

PR-35 saw that another Vehicon was the one listening to it. He forgot the designation, but he remembered this drone was a recent transfer from another outpost. They had been getting more new transfers lately. It seemed like Megatron had a never-ending supply of troops. No wonder nobody cared if a few were destroyed.

"Cool music," PR-35 commented in an effort to start a conversation with the new drone.

"I think so, too," The drone replied nonchalantly, "So, you on patrol?"

"Yes," PR-35 replied, "My serial number is PR-35. What's yours?"

"SS-PLX-04," The other drone replied, "Of course, I just prefer to be called 4."

"I've never heard of anyone shortening their designation to a single number before," PR-35 commented, "So, um...I forgot. What does SS stand for again?"

"Space Station," 4 replied patiently, "I was built off-world since I'm a newer model. I guess most modern drones are built in space these days. What does PR stand for?"

"Praxus," PR-35 informed him, "I was a very early model. I'm the last one from my product line."

4 whistled incredulously and shook his helm. PR-35 had never met a space station drone before. Most of them just stayed in the conquered space stations to guard the newly acquired territory and alien slaves. If Megatron was sending for space station drones, then that meant the Autobots had severely crippled their original forces.

"Well, I need to get back to my duties," PR-35 excused himself, "We should hang out sometime though."

"Yeah, I'll show you some other music I've downloaded over the vorns," 4 offered with a relaxed tilt of the helm.

"Okay, bye," PR-35 waved his gun arm as he walked away from the new drone.

As PR-35 made his round, he found himself humming that song all day. It had a fast and catchy beat, yet the song was a serious social commentary on the dangers of high grade energon addiction. It was nice to hear something from Cybertron again, even if earth music was nice too. When PR-35 went into recharge, the song was still playing on loop in his processor…

* * *

 _Just one shot, and the party gets started_

 _Just one shot, and you'll believe you can fly_

 _Just one look, and you'll know you can't resist it_

 _Just one drink, and your life passes you by_

"Prowl, I thought you didn't like this kind of music," Bluestreak observed as he colored his picture of a cyber dragon.

"Normally I don't," Prowl replied stoically, "However, I have two new roommates at the academy that like this song. It has grown on me Since they explained the depth beyond the shallow beat."

Bluestreak was lying on his chassis in his room coloring while Prowl sat on the berth and studied. Bluestreak kicked his pedes in the air over his helm and hummed along to the song as it played on the radio. He was just so happy his big brother was home for the orn since school had let out for vacation time. Prowl had told him all sorts of cool stories about training at the police academy in Iacon.

"Are your roommates nice?" Bluestreak finally asked when Prowl turned off the radio.

"Yes, for the most part," Prowl replied noncommittally, "Barricade can be a bit difficult to contain at times, but he excels at his studies. I have become good friends with Jazz, however. He is an outspoken and gregarious individual. I also admire his skills during training. When I first met him I thought he would be a slacker with no sense of duty, but I am pleased to say I was wrong."

"Are they your friends?" Bluestreak asked innocently.

"Yes," Prowl replied without question, "I would even venture to say Jazz is my best friend. I just wish we could still hang out all the time after we graduate, but it cannot be."

"Why not?" Bluestreak asked, sad for Prowl, "Don't adult mechs have best friends?"

"Of course we do, but distance will be an issue," Prowl replied solemnly, "Praxus is only 30 kliks from Iacon, so my commute is easy. Jazz is a transfer student from Polyhex. His home city-state is over 800 kliks from Iacon, and when he graduates he will return there. His uncle was murdered when he was a sparkling, just a little older than you, and ever since then he has wanted to clean up the streets of Polyhex. The place is a slum that most decent mechs wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near. I think Jazz is very noble for trying to make his part of the world a better place. Unfortunately, it means we will likely lose touch after we graduate."

"Jazz sounds cool," Bluestreak said with awe.

"Oh, he is," Prowl nodded proudly, "So, do you have any friends in primary school?"

"Uh-huh!" Bluestreak replied enthusiastically, "My best friend is an older kid! His name is Sideswipe, and he's 5 vorns older than me! Isn't that cool? An older kid thinks I'm cool enough to hang out with! His twin Sunstreaker is kind of a jerk, but he still lets me hang out with him. One day Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were challenging the other kids at recess to a race around the school. No one is faster than Sideswipe, but I challenged him anyway, and I got pretty close to winning. Of course I didn't win, but he still thought I was cool for coming close, so he and Sunstreaker let me hang out with them! We do all sorts of fun stuff together, but Sire says Sideswipe is trouble, so don't tell Sire I told you."

"Bluestreak, you're not doing anything bad, are you?" Prowl asked sternly.

"Nuh-uh!" Bluestreak replied defensively, "I'm not gonna turn bad just because my best friend likes to pull pranks on the principle! I'm not stupid, Prowl! I only helped him once, and it was to get back at a bully that was picking on littler kids."

"Oh? And who was this bully?" Prowl inquired.

"His name was Tracks, and he was making fun of some kids in my class for being ugly," Bluestreak told him, "Sideswipe and I stuffed dead scraplets in his locker and made him think living scraplets were coming to eat him! You should've seen his face!"

Bluestreak giggled at the memory, but Prowl had a more thoughtful expression on his face plate.

"Bluestreak, I hope you'll remember that revenge is not justice," Prowl explained to his little brother, "There is a difference between serving justice and hurting someone just to make yourself feel vindicated. Next time I want you to tell a teacher what is happening instead of taking the law into your own hands. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Prowl," Bluestreak replied dejectedly, "Are you gonna tell Sire about Sideswipe?"

"No," Prowl shook his head, "While I don't condone your actions, I believe your friendship with this little hooligan is your own business. I won't interfere as long as you promise me to use your common sense. Do you promise, Bluestreak?"

"I promise!" Bluestreak replied resolutely.

"Good, Now would you care to read some of these police procedure questions off to me out of my study book?"

Bluestreak nodded and grabbed the book off the berth. He spent the next half-joor quizzing Prowl on police procedure. It wasn't very engaging, but Bluestreak was just happy to be able to help his big brother help the world.

* * *

PR-35 onlined ready to start the day. He looked over his schedule and saw that he was supposed to meet Breakdown in the training room for sparring practice. He had never trained with an officer before, and he considered it a real honor to learn how to fight Autobots from one of the best 'Bot crushers in the business.

He walked down the hall the same way he normally did, but deep down he wanted to skip all the way there. He was friends with a real mech! Despite Breakdown having been on the ship for a couple months he still couldn't believe it.

He only wished Knockout was as approachable as Breakdown. Knockout was Breakdown's best friend, and PR-35 really wanted to be a part of that clique, but Knockout was scary and cold. To be fair though, most medics were like that according to PR-35's experience. Why should this self-proclaimed self-important mech be any different?

PR-35 made it to the training room only to see, not Breakdown, but TGP-538. He was trying to pull a piece of shrapnel out of his gun barrel and didn't notice PR-35 enter the room.

"Hey, TGP-538!" PR-35 called out; causing the other Vehicon to shriek in surprise, "Sorry. Listen, have you seen Breakdown anywhere? We're supposed to train together."

"He went on a mission," TGP-538 replied, "By the way, you've got an assignment too. You need to deliver empty cubes to mine #37."

"I'm on it!" PR-35 declared proudly, even though the job couldn't be more tedious, "Lord Megatron can count on me!"

"I'll be sure to let him know that at our next lobbing match," TGP-538 replied sarcastically, "Just be quick about it. Megatron has been on edge lately, and he's looking for any reason to pound one of us into scrap. Be efficient, and be _careful_. I've got to report for duty."

"Okay, see you later!" PR-35 waved vigorously as he ran out of the room.

* * *

PR-35 delivered the cubes to the servant class drones at the mine, who all bowed respectfully when he entered the opening to their latest tunnel. Warrior class drones were considered superior to servant class drones, and therefore were usually treated with respect by the servants (if no one else).

"Excuse me, but I need someone to sign off on these empty cubes," PR-35 informed the formech as he held out a data pad and a stylus.

"Talk to ICN-994 and ICN-995," the formech replied gruffly, "They're the only ones on break right now. I need to get back to work."

"Thank you," PR-35 bobbed his head to say goodbye and rushed to find the pair of miners.

PR-35 remembered ICN-994 and ICN-995 from other times he came to the mines. Those two were always together, and he suspected they might be a couple. Vehicons didn't have genders or the ability to interface, so generally speaking they had no desire to pair off, but ICN-994 had this weird glitch that convinced the thing it was female. ICN-995 didn't seem too keen on destroying that delusion.

Just as he had expected, the two were drinking their energon together with ICN-994 in ICN-995's lap. It would've been cute if ICN-994 was a nicer individual.

"What are you staring at, gun jockey?" ICN-994 snapped from "her" position on 995's lap, "Let me guess, we're not meeting our quota again. Well you can tell Commander Airachnid to stuff it!"

"Now sweet spark," ICN-995 gently chided ICN-994, "You don't want to get in trouble with Lord Megatron's right hand femme. If you died I'd be inconsolable."

"No kidding, then who would scrape the crud out of your gears?" ICN-994 groused, but PR-35 could tell she was trying to be playful. She then turned back to PR-35 and glared as she shouted, "Well, what is it? What do you have there? We don't have all orn!"

"Um, it's a form to confirm that I gave you a shipment of empty energon cubes," PR-35 explained, "Could you sign this, please?"

"I'll sign it," ICN-994 said as "she" got off her partner, "Poor 995 can't read. So, you got any good gossip from our little palace in the sky?"

"Just that Megatron is angry," PR-35 told her.

"Did I ask for the weather?" ICN-994 asked snidely, "Saying Megatron is angry is like saying mosquitoes are annoying. Everyone already knows! There, it's signed. Now get lost so we can enjoy what precious little break time we've got left!"

PR-35 turned away, glanced back once more at the strange duo, and walked away. He didn't understand why they found it so important to constantly be in each other's company. Vehicon life expectancy was so short, he couldn't help but think those two were setting themselves up for disappointment. If one of them died, they other one would have to live without them. It didn't seem fair.

PR-35 was outside the mine and ready to call for a ground bridge when another miner ran up to him screaming for his help!

"Hey, what-?" PR-35 tried to ask, but was cut off when the other miner said "Come quick! You're a warrior! You can help him!"

"Help who?" PR-35 asked in befuddlement.

"Breakdown! He and Bulkhead are fighting, and Breakdown is losing!" The miner explained frantically.

PR-35 felt his gears hitch with trepidation. _Bulkhead_. Why did it have to be _Bulkhead_? PR-35 didn't want to go up against such a powerful bloodthirsty Autobot. At the same time though Breakdown was an officer, not to mention a dear friend. How could he function knowing he left a friend to die at the hands of that overgrown wrecking ball? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He had to fight even if he lost.

* * *

He made it to the top of a cliff that overlooked a lush forest filled with trees. He forgot which part of the planet this was, but it was nowhere near the deserts most Autobots seemed to favor. PR-35 didn't know why they didn't fight around trees more often. They were pretty and they made for good cover. Win-win.

His meandering thoughts were cut short by a burst of metal on metal crashing against the cliffside! PR-35 wobbled and came close to falling over, but managed to keep his footing. He looked down to see Bulkhead pounding the scrap out of Breakdown! The big green Autobot didn't even look winded! Breakdown had been holding his own with his hammer, PR-35 could tell, but now the blue and white 'Con was barely conscious and barely able to defend against the blows.

PR-35 only had one chance to save Breakdown without getting himself or Breakdown killed. He would have to fire a shot from above and hit Bulkhead in a sensitive spot. Problem was there weren't many unprotected spots on Bulkhead, and Breakdown was really close to the big green lug, so he could easily get hit instead.

PR-35 vented the air in and out of his tanks slowly as he tried to calm himself down. He would need full concentration. He aimed his right arm's gun barrel at the moving targets, zoomed in with the optical relays in his visor, and waited for Bulkhead to stand still. He got a clear shot of Bulkhead's neck cables, and fired!

Birds scattered from the trees at the sound of the shot and the subsequent thud of a heavy body hitting the ground. PR-35 looked to see if his aim was true. It was! Bulkhead was down, and Breakdown was looking up at him with his good optic. PR-35 wasted no time and slid down the cliff to tend to his superior officer.

"Hey, PR-35...How did you get here so fast?" Breakdown asked with a casual smile that belittled the severity of his injuries.

"I was on duty at the mine," PR-35 told him, "Um, while you're calling for the ground bridge, do you mind if I check on Bulkhead?"

"He's alive," Breakdown said with certainty, "There's no way that tiny blaster of yours took out a wrecker."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," PR-35 replied timidly, "I didn't really want to get too close anyway. What if he woke up and reached for me? I'd be dead before I could say _oh, scrap_!"

Breakdown laughed lightly and together they waited the few minutes it took for a ground bridge to show up. PR-35 wished he had recorded this moment. He took out an Autobot all by himself! Sure, the Autobot was still alive, but to PR-35 it was as good as ripping out Optimus Prime's spark with his bare servos.


	6. Brothers

_Author's Notes: This is just a short chapter, but it contains everything I meant for it to. It's just some drama mixed with some fluff. I really like writing this story. PR-35 is such a fun character to write, the other characters add depth to the story, and I get to take on the challenge of writing a decent AU fic for Transformers Prime! Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story by reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! You guys are awesome :)_

* * *

Chapter 6

Brothers

Breakdown sat on a berth in the medbay while Knockout repaired him. The fight he had with Bulkhead had been a bad one, and if it wasn't for PR-35 he was sure he would've died. As it was he still had dents and leaks in places he forgot existed, and he was a medical assistant!

Knockout quipped a few one-liners and complained about the lack of proper supplies as he worked. It was a comfort for Breakdown to hear Knockout's grumbling because it reassured him that he was, in fact, safe on the Nemesis and not still in battle. Sometimes Breakdown would stay in battle mode long after the fighting ended, but hearing his best friend's voice usually kept him grounded in reality.

"You've got to stop picking fights with that bloated green lugnut," Knockout chided his assistant, "One of these days that charge-first-ask-questions-later attitude is going to get you killed."

"Hey, I could've taken him if it weren't for losing my slagging eye!" Breakdown groused, "I hate this! How did Shockwave deal with the lack of depth perception for all those vorns? Those humans are monsters, and I can't wait to step on each and every one of the fraggers that did this to me."

"You'll get your chance," Knockout reassured him, "That was over a month ago, by the way. Why is it suddenly bothering you now?"

"Because Bulkhead almost got me," Breakdown growled, "I would've tossed him around a bit to get even with him, but I was worried he might attack PR-35."

"P _what_?" Knockout asked derisively, "Breakdown, I've told you before, the drones aren't alive. They're just play puppets at Megatron's disposal. You shouldn't put a piece of equipment's welfare above the completion of your mission. You could've killed Bulkhead and been declared a hero, but instead you sacrificed your victory for the sake of a _drone_."

"Would you really be okay with that?" Breakdown asked pointedly, "I mean, let's say I came in here carrying Bulkhead's broken down corpse and said I was keeping it for a trophy. Would you be okay with that?"

Knockout harrumphed and turned away. To most it would be a rude dismissal, but to Breakdown it was an admission of vulnerability. For all of Knockout's talk about how he loved torturing Autobots for Megatron, at spark Knockout was still a medic, and life was still important to him. Breakdown was the only one who knew about Knockout's weakness, and he wouldn't betray his friend by exposing it for anything.

"They are real, you know," Breakdown said; changing the subject once again, "The Vehicons have sparks just like we do. Just because they're built in a lab instead of by the Allspark or a bonded pair doesn't mean they aren't real."

"Those are artificial sparks," Knockout insisted, "They hold energy, but they are not of the same devine build as we are. Vehicons are programmed by Megatron to serve him. They have no free will. They are merely androids, and no matter how advanced they may seem they are not real Cybertronians."

"But they talk to me," Breakdown replied in a muted tone of voice, "They have their own opinions. They have their own views on life and duty. Some are lazy, some are funny, and some are psychotic. Each one is different. Doesn't that make them real?"

"They talk to you?" Knockout asked; concerned, "Tell me Breakdown, have they told you to do anything bad? Are you able to touch them?"

"Knockout, I am _not_ hallucinating again!" Breakdown barked; affronted, "I'm not going crazy! They really do talk to me! They talk to each other too! Just ask one of them a personal question. You'll see I'm right!"

Knockout wasn't the only ones who kept secrets from the other Decepticons. Before Breakdown and Knockout were friends, Breakdown had a processor malfunction that humans would describe as akin to schizophrenia. Knockout spent vorns treating Breakdown with mind calming techniques, experimental medication, and even surgery on his processor. Breakdown had been fine for a while at this point, but Knockout always worried his friend would spiral into paranoia once again.

"Breakdown...I recommend you stay overnight in the medbay," Knockout finally said when he couldn't figure out what he really wanted to say, "That way you can get some recharge without Megatron or Airachnid venting down your neck cables."

"Yeah, thanks," Breakdown replied awkwardly, "Listen, Knockout...when I picked that fight with Bulkhead...I know I should've called for backup, but I just really wanted to let off some steam. Today's, you know...the day Wildrider..."

"I know," Knockout replied softly as he placed a comforting servo on Breakdown's arm, "I've often wondered if our brothers would've gotten along. Somehow I doubt it. It seems like you and I were the only ones in both families with any sort of social graces."

"Yeah," Breakdown chuckled, but his laughter held no mirth, "One thing that makes me feel better is that Dead End was probably happy when he died. He always liked death, and he used to write elaborate fantasies about how he would die. I remember one involved being poisoned by a bondmate so she could sell their house and get custody of the pets."

"That's disturbing," Knockout commented, "Oh, well. May our brothers' sparks be one with the Allspark."

"Yeah...I hope you can't get kicked out of the Allspark," Breakdown suddenly said, "I'm pretty sure Motormaster and Wildrider would probably get kicked out if they could be. Drag Strip would probably try to kick other sparks out. You would've liked Drag Strip. He liked to race, too..."

Breakdown was already starting to shut down due to exhaustion and system recovery. He lied back on the berth, and Knockout dimmed the lights so Breakdown could recharge in peace. Before he left for his own room, Knockout took one last look at his best friend and hoped the poor slagger wasn't losing his mind again.

* * *

PR-35 was so tired. Not only did he have to stay up all day, but he also got the night shift and had to patrol the halls. He never really liked the night shift because everything was too quiet. If he talked to himself then he risked waking someone up. If he didn't talk to himself he went crazy from all the quiet.

He held his arm cannon up with his hand because it made him look alert, but in reality he was close to falling into recharge while walking! The stress of the day just made him even more tired now. He still couldn't believe he shot Bulkhead! For once he was glad Autobots couldn't tell one Vehicon from another, or else he'd be in serious trouble.

He was suddenly jolted fully online when he heard an audio-piercing scream coming from somewhere close by! PR-35 feared it was an intruder, but he was the one designated to protect this sector of the ship, so he charged ahead and hoped for the best.

The closer he got, the more PR-35 realized the screaming was coming from the medbay. Now the Vehicon was conflicted. That screaming could be a patient suffering difficulties, a potential traitor being interrogated, or someone who was in trouble. He knew he probably shouldn't go in there for fear of Knockout's wrath, but something told him he needed to investigate.

He cautiously entered the room and looked around for the source of the screaming. The first thing PR-35 noticed was that Knockout wasn't there. The second thing he noticed was Breakdown lying on a berth offline. The third thing he noticed was Breakdown was the one screaming. He was having a nightmare.

"Sir? Sir, please wake up!" PR-35 exclaimed as he pushed on Breakdown's shoulder guard, "Sir, online! It's only a dream."

Breakdown let out one last scream as he jolted upright and looked around to see where he was. He finally saw the walls of the medbay, and a Vehicon looking at him worriedly with his long red visor.

"Which one are you?" Breakdown asked; his chassis rising and falling from the difficulty of venting air.

"I'm PR-35, sir," PR-35 replied, "I'm sorry I disturbed you, but I know bad dreams can be difficult to escape on your own."

"Yeah, they can," Breakdown nodded; still looking around the room for any unseen threat, "I was dreaming about the humans. You know...the ones that tried to scrap me for parts."

"Oh," PR-35 whispered in understanding, "That must have been awful. You know sir, I told the others ever since we got here that humans are dangerous and have powers, but no one believed me. If they had just told you then this never would've happened. I wish I could find some way to make the humans go away for you."

"No, only I can do that," Breakdown said resolutely, "Someday I will make them pay for what they did to me."

PR-35 went over to where Knockout kept a supply of energon in the cabinets. He took a cube and offered it to Breakdown, who gratefully accepted.

"In my dream…" Breakdown started hesitantly, but finally he said, "In my dream, Sylas and the other humans weren't dissecting me. They had captured my brothers and were tearing them apart. They forced me to watch. It was horrible…"

"Your brothers?" PR-35 asked curiously.

"Yeah, I had four brothers," Breakdown explained, "They all died over the course of the war, but we lived in Tyger Pax together when we were sparklings. The war broke out when I was still young. Our parents were killed pretty early on, and my oldest brother Motormaster raised the rest of us. I was the fourth built out of five. The youngest was Wildrider. Motormaster wasn't always a good guardian, actually. Me and Wildrider both had mental problems when we were little, and Motormaster used to think he could beat us until we were normal and that would fix everything. I know I should be angry at him for that, but he didn't know any better. He was still a youngling himself when our parents died. He didn't know how to raise four sparklings."

"Wow, you had _four_ brothers?" PR-35 asked in awe, "I wish I had a brother. I have a dream brother, but I don't think it counts."

"You have a what?" Breakdown asked; confused.

"Well...recently, I've had dreams where I have a brother," PR-35 replied uncertainly, "He's a black and white mech. In the dreams he's so real and I've known him my entire life, but when I wake up I forget him. I don't know his designation, but in the dream he's not a Vehicon. He's a mech. Sometimes I envy real mechs like you. I wish I had a family, a home, and a spark. I guess I should just be grateful I have a purpose and a weapon to protect myself. I'm sorry."

"PR-35, you _do_ have a spark," Breakdown informed him, "It's artificial, but I think it counts just as much as mine. Knockout doesn't think so, but I disagree."

"I have a spark?" PR-35 asked just to make sure he heard that right.

"Yeah, hop on the operating table and I'll show you," Breakdown said cheerfully as he stood up.

PR-35 didn't like the idea of being opened up for exploratory surgery, but he never disobeyed orders from his superiors. Besides that, he had come to trust Breakdown more than he had any other officer in his life. He knew the big guy wouldn't hurt him, so he allowed his arms to be pinned to the berth by the energy restraints, and didn't complain when the big light shone in his visor.

Breakdown entered a code that allowed him to open the chassis and then parted a few sets of wires with his hands. It felt funny, but Breakdown had turned off the pain receptors so it didn't hurt. Breakdown then pulled a mirror out from under the berth and held it up to PR-35.

PR-35 couldn't believe his visor! There it was, bright and beautiful, a pale blue light pulsating in his body! It was his spark! PR-35 had a spark!

"It's...it's _beautiful_ …" PR-35 gasped in mute shock. He felt like he would've cried if he were capable of doing so in that moment.

"You really didn't know?" Breakdown asked; feeling pity for the poor Vehicon.

"I've never been injured seriously enough to have my inner chassis repaired and yet conscious enough to notice," PR-35 pointed out, "If I got injured there, I would be sedated for the surgery."

"Your spark was made in a lab just like the rest of your body," Breakdown explained, "To most mechs that means you're not alive, but I think you are. I think you and the other Vehicons are just as alive as I am."

"Wow...Thank you Breakdown. I'll never forget this," PR-35 replied sincerely, "You really are my best friend," Then, as an afterthought, PR-35 added, "Just don't tell TGP-538."


	7. Spark Break

_Author's Notes: This chapter is depressing. Sorry to be so blunt, but other than a few cute and funny lines most of this chapter is quite melancholy. This chapter focuses on further character development and backstories, but you have been warned. Thanks to everyone who is reading this fic. It's one of my favorites right now, so I'm glad it's had such great reception! Please remember to review, favorite, and follow to keep up with this story :)_

* * *

Chapter 7

Spark Break

PR-35, TGP-538, and SS-PLX-04 were all sitting together in the drone cafeteria refueling and catching up on the day. This was where drones came to be themselves and speak freely. They suspected that Soundwave might listen to them even here, but it seemed like the least likely place to hold the communications officer's interest. Soundwave would be far busier spying on the officers as opposed to worrying over a few pseudo-mechs.

The three were excited because Breakdown was going to come by and show them a few photos from their home world. Even though the Vehicons didn't have families or hometowns, they still missed Cybertron as much as everyone else and looked forward to listening to Breakdown reminisce. He told such cool stories about his life as first a youngling living with his four brothers and then as a soldier serving in the Decepticon army.

"Check this out," 4 said jovially as he showed them a new song he downloaded, "I figure the big guy will love this one. It's about fighting the corrupt system. The song's from the Golden Age, and I tell you it has Decepticon Freedom Fighters written all over it."

"That is so cool!" PR-35 exclaimed before even listening to it, "Say, why do you have so many songs downloaded? It seems like a waste of processor storage."

"You know how it is, P," 4 replied as he leaned back in his chair, "Vehicons aren't allowed to own anything since we're considered property. We have no personal weapons, we have no solid photos or keepsakes, and we don't even have our own cleaning implements. My music is mine, though. It might just be virtual, but it's _mine_. I don't know why that matters to me, but it does."

"I understand," TGP-538 nodded amiably, "Truth is though I wouldn't risk it. Nobody likes a Vehicon they think is malfunctioning, and to Lord Megatron a personality is a malfunction. Frankly, it took me forever to trust Breakdown. He's the real deal though. I still squirm in fear at the thought of Knockout, though. I hear he likes to _experiment_ in his spare time."

"Knockout can't be all bad," PR-35 reasoned, "He's Breakdown's best friend, and since when has Breakdown been a bad judge of character? He told me the story of how they met. It was just as cool as you would think."

"Well don't keep us in suspense," 4 prodded, "Tell us."

"Oh, but what if Breakdown doesn't like me gossiping behind his back?" PR-35 asked nervously.

"Then he might kill you," TGP-538 shrugged pessimistically, "To be fair though, I think he would give you a merciful death. Not like that she-beast that replaced Starscream. I'll be honest guys, I didn't think it could get worse than Starscream, but I was wrong. Airachnid is _way_ worse."

"Oh, she's not so bad," PR-35 waved away his concerns, "She just isn't used to things yet. You know how rogues can be. I think she'll do a great job here. I'm pretty sure she has a crush on Lord Megatron."

" _Bleh_!" 4 gagged in an exaggerated way, "Okay, enough of that topic! Let's get back to how Breakdown met Knockout."

"Oh, right," PR-35 tilted his helm apologetically, "Well, Breakdown told me that it all started at the battle of Tyger Pax. Breakdown was leading a bunch of Vehicons into battle against a bunch of Autobots through the remains of the city. There weren't many civilians left, so Decepticons would go into random houses and buildings to loot valuables and search for energon. Anyway, Breakdown went into a small house in search of fuel or supplies, and when he got to one of the bedrooms he found a red mech sitting there on a berth, staring at him with a cold angry glare. Breakdown didn't see a faction symbol on him, so he figured out it was a neutral, and thought he could scare the mech away."

"Wait, Knockout was a _neutral_?" TGP-538 asked incredulously.

"Yep," PR-35 replied with a nod, "Well, Breakdown unleashed his hammer and told Knockout to run away or else he would kill him. Knockout didn't leave though. He took out his electric prod and charged at Breakdown with a savage yell! He and Breakdown fought until Breakdown finally managed to get the upper hand and push Knockout to the ground. Breakdown was so impressed though that he didn't want to hurt Knockout or take him prisoner. Instead he asked Knockout where he learned to fight. Knockout told him he learned to fight like that to protect his patients during the war. When Breakdown realized he was a medic, he knew it would be no trouble to convince the Decepticons to accept Knockout. They've been best friends ever since. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Sounds like a load of slag to me," TGP-538 commented, "I can't imagine Knockout caring enough about his patients to protect them. He's such a coward and a sadist. All he cares about is his paint job. He doesn't even talk to Breakdown like he's a friend. More like a servant."

"Of course he talks like that," 4 replied, "We're Decepticons. Decepticons don't talk about their feelings. That's an Autobot thing."

"You think Autobots talk about their feelings?" PR-35 asked curiously, "What else do you know about them?"

"You tell me," 4 replied with a smirk, "You're the oldest one here."

PR-35 was about to reply, but then he noticed there was a shadow over the table. At first he thought it was Breakdown finally come to join them, but then he saw it was, in fact, ICN-995.

"What are you doing here, dirt digger?" TGP-538 asked rudely, "Aren't servant class Vehicons supposed to stay in the mines?"

"I have some terrible news," ICN-995 said solemnly, "I've been going around to all the Vehicons who were close friends with Breakdown. I'm afraid he was killed in battle. I'm sorry."

"No he wasn't," PR-35 refuted; certain it was just a mistake, "We just talked to him this morning. He was going to show us some old photos from Cybertron, and we were going to show him some music 4 downloaded."

ICN-995 didn't reply. He just hung his helm in sorrow. The other three Vehicons looked at one another with feelings ranging from disbelief, confusion, to dawning realization and grief.

"Which one was it?" 4 asked; his voice low and full of venom, "Which slagging Autobot killed Breakdown?"

"None," ICN-995 replied softly, "Breakdown was sent out to assist Dreadwing in the assassination of Airachnid. She killed Breakdown and managed to escape. Our new second in command is Dreadwing."

"Does Knockout know?" PR-35 asked in a voice barely above a whisper, though he didn't know why he was whispering.

"Of course," ICN-995 replied, "All of the senior staff know. The only reason I know is because my mate and I were sent to collect the body. Unfortunately, it has been stolen. I intend to inform Lord Megatron alone in case he is angry with the news. If I am offlined for my failures then please look after ICN-994. I know she seems strong, but she's never been alone before."

Normally TGP-538 would yet again inform ICN-995 that ICN-994 was not a femme and therefore not a _she_ , but under the circumstances it didn't seem appropriate. The atmosphere was suddenly oppressive and silent. It just didn't seem real. How could Breakdown be gone? He was _just_ there.

* * *

Later that night, PR-35 couldn't recharge. Nightmares were one thing, but he knew he was going to have to wake up to this reality, and therefore it seemed like too much trouble to leave it in the first place.

He had talked to HX-346, who had gone in for minor maintenance, and had asked the other drone how Knockout was doing. HX-346 informed him that Knockout didn't seem all that affected and that no one had come to comfort him. It was as if the whole thing had never happened.

PR-35 knew that couldn't be right though. Knockout had been friends with Breakdown for deca-vorns. PR-35 thought about it, and realized just how lonely Knockout must have been in the wake of this tragedy. Breakdown had a lot of friends. The Vehicons were his friends. He got along with the other officers. Everyone seemed to like Breakdown. Knockout on the other hand was vain, off-putting, and had zero filter when it came to his snide comments. Knockout didn't have anyone else. If he had died, Breakdown would've been the only one that would've missed him.

Deciding that he couldn't leave the medic to suffer alone, PR-35 got up and decided to go to the medbay and talk with him. He was nervous about meeting with the torturous medic alone, but he also knew Knockout needed someone to be there for him.

PR-35 went to the medbay first to see if Knockout was there. No such luck. The dark and ominous medbay was empty, and so quiet that it made PR-35 nervous. PR-35 never told anyone this, but his greatest fear was absolute silence. He hated silence, and it terrified him to be alone in eerily quiet places. He didn't know why. It had just always been that way.

Venting air heavily, PR-35 knew if he was going to find Knockout he would have to go to the medic's quarters. Sure, there were no medical instruments there that could hurt him, but there were other considerations. Knockout might be angry at PR-35 intruding at such a late hour, and order the poor drone to the medbay. Vehicons couldn't disobey orders, so he would have to follow the doctor to his own execution. That sounded like a very bad idea.

PR-35 figured it wasn't worth it and turned to go back to the Vehicon quarters. He would recharge and hope for the best the next day. He would dream about- _ohhh_...PR-35 knew exactly what he would dream about. He would dream about Breakdown, or else he would dream about Knockout. His processor would torture him all night and well into the next day. No, he couldn't let that happen. His only absolution would come from doing the right thing and attempting to comfort Knockout.

The nervous Vehicon made it to Knockout's room, but it took him several minutes before he worked up the nerve to knock on the door. He rapped quickly on the door and held his intakes waiting for a response.

"Who is it?" Knockout asked through the door; sounding fully awake and a tad bit annoyed.

"Um, Drone PR-35, sir!" PR-35 replied in clipped and formal tones as he instinctively stood up straighter for an inspection.

Knockout then opened the door and glared crossly at the drone. The red mech then put his hands on his hips and leaned to one side like a teenager confronting their nosy parents.

"Why did Lord Megatron send you here?" Knockout asked after a moment of awkward silence, "Is there someone in need of repairs?"

"Um, no sir…" Pr-35 didn't know quite how to start this conversation, "I just, um, I just wanted to talk, sir. I thought you could use a listening audio receptor after what happened with Breakdown."

"Is this a joke?" Knockout asked dryly, "Who told you to say that? Was it Soundwave? Everyone thinks he's so stuffy and would never play a prank like this, but I know a sadistic glitch when I see one. I wouldn't be surprised if Soundwave broadcasted videos of all of us singing in the wash racks one day. Probably when he gets promoted to second in command. Frankly, I don't know why he isn't already. Wait, why am I even _telling_ you this? You're just a drone! Ugh! I must be going crazy."

"No one ordered me to come here, sir," PR-35 explained, "I just...Breakdown was a really good mech, and what happened to him was unfair. I know he was closer to you than to anyone, so I thought-"

" _Get out_!" Knockout suddenly screamed, "I don't need artificial sympathy from some fragging battle-droid! If I had time I would repair your glitching processor, but right now Megatron's troops can all be reprogrammed into ballerinas for all I care! Just get out of my sight and remember how to aim a gun at an Autobot's fragging skull! That's all you're good for anyway!"

PR-35 couldn't help but be hurt by Knockout's outburst, but he had never disobeyed an order before, and he wouldn't start now. He bowed his helm respectfully to the irate medic and walked away.

When the Vehicon was out of sight, Knockout shut the door and went back to his berth. He hadn't recharged all night, and it looked like he wouldn't get a chance to for a while. He went back to what he had been doing before the drone interrupted; staring at an album pad with holographic photos from his past.

There were hundreds of photos in Knockout's collection, and he kept some of the strangest shots. Many of them were before and after shots from his patients back when he still had his practice as a cosmetic surgeon. Many more were of him and his older brother. Still others were of him and Breakdown. He didn't take as many photos after he joined the Decepticons, so there weren't as many photos of Breakdown as he would like, and it pained him that he would never get another chance to take one. He sighed deeply and shut off the album pad.

"Everyone I draw close to dies," Knockout said softly in the stillness of the room, "Maybe I should just face facts. I'm bad for people."

Knockout thought back to his past in Tyger Pax where he had been a cosmetic surgeon and at that time a neutral. Knockout and his brother moved around a lot, and Tyger Pax seemed like the perfect place for neutrals because both factions had bases there.

Knockout hadn't always wanted to be a medic. He liked carnage and destruction, and so did his brother. They thought they would pick a faction and join the war when they decided which side they liked better. That all changed when the Insecticons attacked the town they were staying in; Kaon. Knockout's brother, who had been a mech as beautiful as any on Cybertron, had been horribly disfigured by the Insecticons' acid. Knockout decided to learn cosmetic surgery to help his brother return to his normal stunning self.

As it turned out, selfish reasons soon became charitable ones, when Knockout realized he had hit upon a need in Cybertronian society. Many mechs and femmes wanted to change their identities and switch sides. Some just wanted to look different for undercover work. Because of this they were willing to pay Knockout a lot of money and energon to work on them. His business was a forbidden one that many would consider morally dubious and subversive. He remodeled Cybertronians and helped them turn traitor to whichever side they were on.

That was why he and his brother settled in Tyger Pax. There were Autobots and Decepticons there, and depending on how the war was going he got a lot of customers who wanted to change to whichever side was winning. On some days he would get a lot of Decepticons hoping to become Autobots. On other days it was the other way around. No procedure was off-limits and no form of payment was rejected. Well, except for that coneheaded guy that wanted to trade him a scraplet in exchange for a helm reduction surgery. In retrospect that might've been a threat.

Everything changed for him during a decisive battle that he didn't know about until it was too late. He was working late at the clinic when he got a comm from his brother. It was mostly static, but he could tell that something bad was happening.

"Hey! Moonracer!" Knockout called to his nurse, "Watch the clinic. I've got to get home. Something big is going down!"

"Be careful," Moonracer replied, but he barely heard her since he was already out the door and transformed into his alt mode.

Knockout raced through ruined streets with jagged metal that could pop his tires if he wasn't careful of it. He remembered that there were a lot of Autobot patients that day. That meant the Decepticons were winning right now. If there was a problem at home it was probably a Decepticon raid.

Everything was deserted where Knockout lived. Most of the inhabitants left long ago, but he and his brother weren't afraid of staying in the city. Nothing scared Knockout as long as his brother was there beside him. Problem was, when he was alone he got very, _very_ , scared.

Knockout burst through the door in time to see an Insecticon chewing on the internal wires of his brother; already long dead. Knockout felt like he would purge his fuel tanks. It _had_ to be an Insecticon. He _hated_ Insecticons. The way they flew in unison, their ugly identical frames, and their mob mentality. They were just living versions of Vehicons as far as he was concerned.

Working with nothing but primal rage, Knockout screamed a war cry as he took out his electric rod and swung it at the Insecticon. The Insecticon bit it back and tried to push forward to attack Knockout, but the red mech took his pede and pushed back the Insecticon! He grabbed a piece of peeled metal from the walls of the broken down house he was living in and plunged it into the Insecticon's spark; killing it instantly. He turned away from the monstrosity and picked up his lifeless brother; now so broken it was hard to tell he was ever alive.

"Don't worry bro," Knockout said quietly, "I'll rebuild you for the funeral. I'll make sure you're buffed and polished to perfection. I know you wouldn't want anyone to see you like this. I'm sorry I was so slow. I'm sorry...Next time I'll…"

He broke down then, realizing there would be no next time. He had failed, and there was no second chance for this. He didn't know what he would do. He was alone now, and his patients would need a protector. What could he do though? He was just the medic. His brother was the warrior that protected the patients. Sure, Knockout knew a few moves, but it wasn't enough to face a cruel and unstoppable army like that of the Decepticons.

He placed his brother's broken pieces in a box, and decided that when he was ready he would rebuild the body. His family always cared about physical appearance, and he knew this was no way for his brother to look after death.

Knockout then sat on the berth and listened as the battle got closer. He knew that eventually he would have to leave, but he just didn't have the motivation to do so. It was half a joor later that he heard the sound of someone entering his home, and saw the massive Decepticon soldier that had broken in. He didn't realize then that the fight with that Decepticon would culminate into a friendship that would last for many centuries.

* * *

Knockout sighed as he lied back on his berth and stared up at the ceiling. He never thought anything could hurt as bad as losing his brother, but he was wrong. This was just as bad. Knockout never had the chance to repair his brother, and now he didn't even have Breakdown's body at all. Then again, Breakdown was a much simpler mech than Knockout. Outward beauty was never that important to him.

"Fragging drone…" Knockout muttered under his breath, not sure if he meant the intrusive Vehicon or the long-dead Insecticon that took his brother away.


	8. Give Me Your Power

_Author's Notes: The latter part of this chapter is something I had planned from the beginning, but the opening sequence was a last minute idea. I think everything came together well, but maintaining this K+ rating isn't easy. Good thing the actual cartoon was already kind of intense. I tried to keep the mood from staying in one place for too long, but that's kind of a challenge for me. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter of My Spark Still Shines!_

 _Also, for my next Transformers fic I was thinking about writing some angsty romance (since I don't have a lot of romance in my collection) and I have two ideas I want to do, but I'm having trouble deciding which one to do first. So, I'll ask you one simple question, should I post a G1 fic or a TFP fic in this genre? PM or review to let me know your thoughts :)_

 ** _Ohmygiddyaunt:_** _Thanks for pointing out wording error in this chapter. Hopefully it reads better now :)_

* * *

Chapter 8

Give Me Your Power

The crowds were forced together in the small room like livestock awaiting slaughter. That actually seemed like a fair description. Everyone was taller than him, and they spoke in frantic shouts and whispers. He was just grateful to hear them. He had been trapped under a pile of debris for 7 joors with his audio sensors completely blocked due to the rubble and nothing but grim deathlike silence to keep him company. When the Decepticons forced him out of the wreckage, he was almost happy to see them.

He wished he knew someone in the room, anyone, so he could ask them what was going on. No one wanted to talk to him though. An unattended sparkling was hardly worth anyone's attention when the Decepticons were holding them all as prisoners in this dark tiny cell with no windows or bars. The walls were all made of dark purple steel, and there were only two doors; one to get in, and the other unknown.

The helpless sparkling began to sob quietly and sat down on the floor. He hugged his legs and hoped that someone would come to get them soon. He knew the Decepticons would probably hurt them, but it didn't seem that important for the moment. He just wanted someone to talk to him. More than that, he wanted his sire.

It had all happened so fast. The quakes, the building falling over him, and being trapped in the remains of what had once been his room. He hoped Prowl survived. Maybe Prowl would get out of the rubble and save him. Bluestreak had no other hope of survival, so he held onto the belief that Prowl was alive and coming to rescue him from the bad mechs that wanted to hurt him.

An archaic comm system crackled to life above their helms on the ceiling, and a deep emotionless voice began to speak. Everyone grew quiet and held their intakes in fear and anticipation.

"Praxians, welcome to the waiting room," The voice said, though the welcome sounded like anything but, "You will enter the processing room one at a time. Any deviation will be severely punished. First prisoner, step forward."

The door on the far side suddenly opened, and the mech leaning against it stumbled inside. The door immediately closed, so no one could see what was happening to him in there. For a few breems nothing happened. It was eerily silent, and Bluestreak wanted to say something, anything, to makes the silence stop. He couldn't though. He felt like he would be intruding on the other mechs and femmes if he did. The quiet was interrupted a few breems later by the shrieking of the mech on the other side of the door! It was clear he was in excruciating pain, and flickering lights could be seen through the cracks of the door.

Everyone screamed and backed up further away from the door, nearly crushing poor Bluestreak's fragile body in the process. Someone stepped on his servo, which was already fractured, and he howled in pain as his right servo finally detached from his arm completely.

Just last orn he had been an ordinary sparkling with a loving home, cool friends, and little to no knowledge of the terrorists known as Decepticons. It all seemed too awful to be real. Terror was definitely present, but what the little sparkling felt more than anything else was confusion. First he was safe, then his house crushed him, and then evil terrorists took him prisoner and trapped him in a room with about 40 other people. Would he ever see his family again?

"Next prisoner," The voice ordered over the comm.

Nobody wanted to be next. When the door opened they all stayed back, and that was when Bluestreak got a glimpse of what was inside. It was an even smaller room that had a conveyor belt floor and another door on the far wall. There were arm-like machines poking out from the side walls, and the sight made Bluestreak's plating grow cold. He thought he was going to faint!

After a breem, the floor began to move toward the open door! Everyone screamed, and soon a mech was close enough to the door for one of the wall-arms to grab him and pull him inside! The door closed once again, and many began to sob and scream. It was clear now...whatever was going to happen was going to happen. There was no stopping the Decepticons.

Most of the mechs and femmes were gone before Bluestreak was forced into the torture room. When he made it into the room the door slammed shut behind him, and he felt like he was inside a box ready to be shipped somewhere. It was so cramped, and the arms were everywhere.

The little sparkling huddled into himself and began to vent quickly. He was probably going to die, but he wouldn't fall apart now. If any Decepticons were watching somehow, he wouldn't let them see him cry now that he was alone. He just hoped his sire and his brother never knew the details of what happened to him.

Oddly enough, the arms didn't come for him. The next thing to happen though was even worse. It began to _rain_. Acid fell from the ceiling and melted his plating! It burned him all over. Bluestreak had never been in so much pain in his life! Now he cried out, since he could no longer help it, and hoped stasis lock would come soon. When most of his armor was gone, the arms began to peel him apart at his helm and chassis. They were going for his processor and spark!

* * *

PR-35 screamed as he onlined from his recharge cycle! He vented a few times and felt his armor just to make sure it was still there. It was. Good. He looked at his right arm. Still a gun. Good. No missing servos.

"PR-35!" TGP-538 called out, "What happened this time? You sound like you had a real doozy of a nightmare. Was it Breakdown again?"

"No...I don't know what that was," PR-35's body was as shaky as his voice.

Breakdown had been gone for over a month at this point. PR-35 would occasionally dream about Airachnid sneaking aboard the ship and killing everyone, or dream about Breakdown being killed by Autobots or by Airachnid. It seemed like PR-35's dreams were the only way his processor could truly express itself.

"Tell me about the dream," TGP-538 said in a calm tone as he sat by PR-35's berth.

"I don't know. I was little, and I melted, and it was raining inside, and a machine tried to take my spark!"

"Oh, I get it," TGP-538 replied drolly, "This _is_ about Breakdown."

"How do you figure that?" PR-35 asked skeptically.

"Breakdown showed you your spark," TGP-538 explained, "It's not a real spark, but I noticed a change in you after you found out about it. It's made you more afraid of dying than you already were. You've become paranoid. Breakdown's death proved to you that anyone can die, even real mechs. PR-35, you're a drone, but lately you've started viewing yourself as a real mech. You need to stop it. It's interfering with your work performance and your recharge cycles."

"I'm sorry," PR-35 said softly, "I know you're right, but I feel different ever since then. I've been wondering...what separates a drone from a real mech? The real mechs had to be made somehow. Just because it was the Allspark instead of an assembly line, does that really mean they're better than us?"

"Yes," TGP-538 said bluntly, "Now get up. We have mine guarding duty today."

"Both of us?" PR-35 asked hopefully as his helm perked up like an excited cyberhound.

"Yeah, and HX-346, SS-PLX-04, and NU-855 are gonna be there as well," TGP-538 told him.

"Cool! I like working with you, and 4 has some of the coolest music!" PR-35 gushed, "HX-346 is kind of a bummer, but NU-855 is okay."

"Just be ready at oh-nine-hundred," TGP-538 reminded him, "I'll be in the wash racks."

"See you later!" PR-35 waved energetically as his longtime friend left.

He went over to the community cleaning cloth shelf and grabbed a rag. He polished his gun barrel and wiped off his chassis; his horrible dream already forgotten.

* * *

It had all happened so suddenly, though frankly no one was surprised. PR-35 and the other Vehicons were sent to guard a new mine rich with energon crystals. They knew this mine would likely attract Autobots, but only the five of them were sent to guard it. PR-35 didn't like that, because it meant the Decepticons' numbers were getting dangerously low.

For the first half joor it had been boring work consisting of mostly standing around and looking threatening like a bunch of metal scarecrows. PR-35 would've stayed there all day like everybody else, but a fight broke out between two of the miners and he volunteered to go inside and break it up.

As it turned out, ICN-995 had punched KN-447 after he insulted ICN-994. Of course. If there was a fight it was usually one of the lovebirds (as the other Vehicons had taken to calling them) at the spark of it.

"I wish you two could learn to get along with the other miners," PR-35 lamented as he helped ICN-995 load some crystals onto a cart after the fact.

"So do I," ICN-995 sighed apologetically, "I don't know what happened. I just lose it when someone insults my mate. It isn't her fault she's as ugly as the rest of us."

"I heard that!" ICN-994 shouted from across the cavern.

"Anyway," ICN-995 continued as if the interruption never happened, "I guess I wish the other miners understood how much she and I need each other. It's a connection I can't quite explain, but I felt it from the moment we onlined together for the first time on that factory floor. I think we were meant to be."

"That's so beautiful," PR-35 sighed wistfully, "Personally, I think you're an inspiration to Vehicons everywhere. Even without interface organs we can still find our special someone. I hope I find a Vehicon that thinks it's female someday."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of gunfire outside the cave! Everyone knew that sound could only mean one thing... _Autobots_. The mine formech comm'ed base and requested a ground bridge, and soon the miners were being ushered into the swirling green vortex with their carts of energon.

Once every miner was safe and the cargo transported to the Nemesis, PR-35 went outside to join the fighting. He charged his cannon as he ran toward the light of day and hoped there weren't too many enemies to fight.

When he made it out there what he saw sent chills down his spinal struts. Everyone was gone except for one lone body on the ground...TGP-538. The other three Vehicons weren't there, so they likely made it back to the ship, but TGP-538's cables and fuel lines were pulled out of his body and strewn all around him. Energon leaked profusely, and his visor was dark and lifeless. There was no point in checking. He was gone.

PR-35 was about to order a ground bridge to return to the Nemesis just as the others had, but then suddenly he heard a noise from inside the caves. It sounded like a cross between a squeal and a yelp, and PR-35 knew the Autobots had been there. He feared they might still be there, but it was his duty to protect the energon in those mines from thieves, so he hefted his cannon and marched back inside.

"Miko! Jack! Where are you?" A young sounding voice yelled into the darkness.

 _What kind of names are Miko and Jack_? PR-35 thought curiously as he made his way closer to the source of the interference.

PR-35 stopped when he saw a small creature standing right in front of him, and he gasped when he recognized it as a human. The little human turned around, and he made another yelp noise as he stumbled back and tried to scoot away from the scary looking Vehicon.

"Wow, you're a human!" PR-35 stated the obvious.

"Leave me alone!" The little human warned him, though fear could be detected in his tone due to the slightly higher pitch, "If you hurt me, Bumblebee will come after you!"

"Bumblebee?" PR-35 repeated nervously.

So, this wasn't just a human. This was _Bumblebee's_ human. PR-35 often suspected that the Autobots' humans had special powers that made the Autobots stronger and protected them from danger. Bumblebee, from what PR-35 could tell, was a mighty warrior despite his young age and low rank. This human was most likely the key to Bumblebee's victories. Even though PR-35 knew that stealing Autobot property would make him a target, he also knew the reward was worth the risk. He had to have that human.

"Hold still, little guy," PR-35 said cautiously as he knelt down, "I won't hurt you. Just stay there…"

PR-35 awkwardly balanced himself with his cannon as he used his left servo to try to grab the boy, but Raf wasn't stupid, so he ran away while the Vehicon was kneeling in an awkward position.

"Hey, come back!" PR-35 hollered after the human as he ran further into the mine.

PR-35 gave chase to the little human. Under normal circumstances PR-35 would shoot running targets, but he didn't want to harm the boy, so he continued to run until he eventually caught up with the human and cornered him against a cavern wall.

Raf was panting and staring wide-eyed at the giant alien robot that had chased him down into this dark and lonely tunnel. He didn't know whether he would be killed or captured and taken to Megatron, but neither outcome seemed very appealing at the moment.

PR-35 put his hand flat on the ground palm up, and said "Come on little human, climb on. I'm your friend."

"You're no friend of mine!" Ran shouted defiantly, though inside his heart was pounding with terror.

"Oh, but I will be," PR-35 insisted, "I'm going to take you home with me, and you'll be my partner instead of Bumblebee's."

"Your's?" Raf asked critically, "But you're just a Vehicon. One of Megatron's foot soldiers. Wouldn't you take me to one of the other Decepticons like Dreadwing or Soundwave?"

"No, you're _my_ partner!" PR-35 cried out desperately, "Please little human, give me your power! I'll make a good home for you. I'll get you human fuel, a habitat, a little game system so you have something to do while I'm gone, and blankets. I'll get you lots of blankets! I heard humans love blankets. That sounds pretty good, right? I promise not to take you for granted. Just _please_ protect me. I'm old, and I'm getting slower. The Autobots are out for our sparks! They just killed TGP-538! I'm next...I know I'm next. You'll like living on the Nemesis. I'm sure the other Vehicons will like you, too. Maybe you can help me pick out humans to protect the others as well. I'll give you so much more than Bumblebee ever did! You'll see!"

Raf couldn't believe what he was hearing. This Vehicon was having a meltdown right before his eyes. He didn't understand this behavior though. According to the Autobots the Vehicons were just drones. They didn't have minds of their own and only lived to serve Megatron. Was this one broken? Or was something else going on?

"Um, Mr. Vehicon?" Raf cautiously addressed the Vehicon when he stopped talking, "Do you have a name?"

"My serial number is PR-35," PR-35 replied automatically.

"Okay, but what's your _name_?" Raf asked again.

"Um...You mean a designation?" PR-35 asked uncertainly, "I can't have a designation of my own. I'm not a real mech. Do humans have designations?"

"Yes, my name is Rafael, but everyone calls me Raf," Raf replied politely.

"Raf. It's kind of short, but I like it," PR-35 replied as he tried to smile at the boy, "I noticed you are smaller than the other humans the Autobots have. Are you less powerful than the other two? Is that why you were assigned to protect a lowly scout instead of the Wrecker or the SIC?"

"Well, first of all, I'm smaller because I'm younger," Raf tried to explain, though the Vehicon's words confused him on some level, "And, um, I think you have the wrong idea about humans. I don't protect Bumblebee. Bumblebee protects me."

"Why?" PR-35 inquired curiously, "What value do humans hold for Autobots?"

"We're friends," Raf explained simply, "Bumblebee and I are best friends, and I'm friends with the other Autobots, too."

"That's it?" PR-35 asked; disappointed, "That's the only reason you're with them?"

"Well, we weren't supposed to be on the battlefield," Raf admitted sheepishly, "But Miko ran through the ground bridge at the last second again, so Jack and I went after her to stop her. I got lost from the group. So, anyway...what are you going to do with me?"

That was a difficult question. PR-35 had been given no orders and no protocol for how to handle humans. He would've stolen the boy if he could've gained power over the Decepticons' enemies, but that assumption turned out to be false. If he took the boy anyway, he would be hunted down and killed by the Autobots. If he let the boy go, then the others might find out about it the next time he was "patched" during a routine checkup. Besides, just leaving the boy in the cave meant he was leaving a sparkling to die alone. He didn't know what to do.

"Raf... _can we live here_?" PR-35 asked in a whiny tone of voice as he gestured around the cave.

"I'd rather not," Raf replied half-jokingly as he wrapped his arms around his chest, "This cave is so cold. I'm used to wearing long sleeves in the desert. Makes me wonder if I'd get hypothermia if I went to Florida. Heh heh…"

PR-35 looked down at the pint-sized human, realizing now that this one really was only a sparkling, and felt a pang of guilt for putting him through this. He exhaled heavily, realizing that there was only one course of action that would let him sleep at night, but it would probably get him killed.


	9. New Arrivals

_Author's Notes: Okay folks, this is the part of the fic that officially gets into AU territory, meaning that from this point on I can't guarantee continuity that matches the show. Then again if I just told the story of the show in the exact same way, then what would be the point? Anyway, this chapter turned out differently than I expected, but I think it came out even better than my original intent. I thank you all for reading, and I hope you will review, favorite, and follow My Spark Still Shines :)_

* * *

Chapter 9

New Arrivals

Jack felt weird riding in the driver's seat of Bumblebee's alt mode. He had gotten so used to riding Arcee's motorcycle alt that anything else just didn't seem to fit. It didn't help that Bumblebee would every now and then frantically beep or whir to ask Jack something, but Jack didn't know what the 'Bot was saying.

Raf had been missing for several hours. He had gone into the cave with Jack to get Miko, but when they all made a run for the ground bridge no one had noticed that Raf wasn't with them. By the time they made it to the cave, Raf was gone. If Megatron had managed to get a hold of the boy Jack didn't know what they would do. Megatron had hurt Raf before. He wouldn't feel any remorse for doing it again.

Jack didn't feel qualified to offer any reassurances to Bumblebee. He was mature for his age, but Jack was still a teenage boy, and psychology wasn't his strong suit. He wished he could've rode with Arcee in the search, but she had her own problems at the moment.

Earlier that day the Autobots had received a long-range communication from deep space. Ratchet had answered the call in the hopes it was Autobot allies. As it turned out the call was even better news for the Autobots than they ever expected. Jack didn't know who this Ironhide fellow was, but hearing his voice on the other end of the comm had caused every Autobot to freeze in their tracks and smiles to grow on their face plates. Then when Chromia spoke to them, Jack could see Arcee was having trouble keeping her overwhelming joy in check. She was literally trembling with excitement!

"How long before you reach planet earth?" Optimus had asked; his voice filled with anticipation and restrained jubilation.

"Shouldn't be more than one earth day," Ironhide replied casually, "Oh by the way Prime, remember my red armor? Well, I changed it. Black was suited better for catchin' 'Cons by surprise since there was no sun on the planet we were stationed on. Hope you can get used to it."

Optimus actually chuckled at that statement, which surprised the human kids who never saw the dignified Autobot leader laugh.

"I'm sure we'll adjust," Optimus Prime replied; amusement clear in his tone, "We'll see you soon old friend."

"Hey, Prime!" Chromia called out on their audio feed, "You better be takin' good care of our little femme. Tell Arcee we'll see her soon."

"I'm right here, Carrier!" Arcee shouted in reply, "I look forward to seeing you."

"We can't wait to see you too, darlin'," Ironhide replied fondly, "End transmission."

Ever since that transmission came through Arcee had been knocking herself out cleaning the base from floor to ceiling. Apparently her sire was a military commander and used to things running smoothly. Arcee didn't want to make a bad impression on her creators after all these years apart.

That string of events was what put Jack in his current predicament, sitting in Bumblebee's driver seat trying to comfort him and hoping Raf was safe wherever he was. Bumblebee beeped again, and Jack was about to answer him when he heard the static that meant a comm signal was coming through.

"Bumblebee, Jack, this is Ratchet!" Ratchet's frantic voice came through the comm link, "A Vehicon has just approached the outer perimeter of our base. It appears to be searching for us."

"So? Vehicons never find the base," Jack replied dismissively, "Just distort the shields or whatever it is you do to keep them out."

"You don't understand, Jack," Ratchet snapped; his voice tense, "The Vehicon has Rafael!"

Jack gasped and Bumblebee's engine kicked into overdrive. They knew what this meant.

Megatron was playing his hand.

* * *

PR-35 and Raf had driven for two hours to get to the outer perimeter of the Autobot base. Raf wouldn't tell PR-35 exactly where it was, and PR-35 understood completely. He certainly wouldn't share classified information with his enemies, so why should his enemies share such things with him? Still, it was strange to think of innocent little Raf as his enemy. The human just seemed so precocious and curious. He was just like a Cybertronian sparkling.

Thinking about Cybertronian sparklings suddenly made images pop up into PR-35's memory bank. It was nothing coherent; just flashing bits of data that didn't belong. He saw a red car speed down a track. He saw that crazy Autobot medic limping with a bad hip joint down some stairs. He saw a fire in Helex during one of Megatron's campaigns. He saw the face of a black and white mech with an orange chevron. He saw blurs of red and gold rush ahead of him while taunts were broadcasted that he could no longer remember. It was nothing but a garbled mess.

His processor was brought back to reality when Raf asked "Will you go back to the Decepticons after this?"

"Don't be silly," PR-35 replied; his deep Vehicon voice still managing to send shivers down Rafael's spine, "I'm not getting out of this alive. Your guardians will kill me with their bare servos. I'm not even worthy to have a price on my helm. I'm just an insect designed to annoy the Autobots for a short time before they kill me."

"What if they gave you a choice? Would you return to Megatron then?" Ran pressed the issue.

"Of course I would," PR-35 replied without question, "I was built for Megatron. Programmed by Megatron himself to serve as a warrior class drone. I can't exist without them."

"Them?" Raf asked.

"The Decepticons," PR-35 supplied, "I am nothing without them."

"But they're _evil_ ," Raf contended, "Do you really want to be evil?"

"Breakdown wasn't evil," PR-35 replied mournfully, "I'm glad Airachnid left. I wouldn't want to serve her after what she did. I would've done my job, but I wouldn't have liked it. Did you know Breakdown used to come to the Vehicon cafeteria and show us photos of his travels across the galaxy? It was so cool! I've never met an officer as nice as Breakdown. I wish Knockout was nice too. I wanted so badly to be his friend. Medics are the most powerful mechs in the universe because they can heal and destroy. With one servo they can cause you pain, and with the other servo they can make it all better. It has to be the coolest job ever!"

Raf just sat back and allowed the drone to drone on. It seemed like PR-35 had a short attention span and easily flowed from one topic of conversation to another. Raf could also tell that this Vehicon loved to talk, and it didn't matter if Raf was actually listening or not. Oddly enough, despite his initial fears Raf found that he liked the Vehicon.

PR-35 suddenly screeched to a halt, forcing Raf forward with nothing but a seatbelt keeping the boy from flying through the windshield. Raf gasped, and then saw why the drone had stopped. The Autobots had surrounded the Vehicon and were pointing their weapons right at him. There was Optimus Prime at the forefront, followed by Bulkhead, Arcee, Wheeljack, and even Ratchet! Raf was surprised to find however that Bumblebee wasn't there.

"Oh, _scrap_!" PR-35 practically squeaked, "They're gonna do it! They're finally gonna do it and I'm all alone! I don't want to die this way! I wanted to die with my Vehicon brothers by my side! Now I have no one!"

"That's not true," Raf reassured him, "You have me, and I won't let them hurt you. Just let me out and I'll vouch for you."

"I know you're lying, but I don't really care," PR-35 replied, and then he popped the door open for Raf to get out, "Go on and betray me, kid. I knew what I was getting into when I came."

The Autobots waited for the Vehicon to make his move; none of them lowering their weapons for a second. Optimus was sure the Vehicon would deliver a message from Megatron and then try to escape with the boy, but was surprised when the door opened and Raf exited the vehicle unharmed.

"Rafael, walk toward us slowly and carefully," Optimus instructed.

PR-35 hated this desert sun. It made his metal feel too hot, and the dust was getting in every nook and cranny of his frame. If the Autobots were going to shoot him, he began to wonder what was taking them so long. Were they trying to cook him before they killed him? Somehow that just seemed cruel.

"Optimus!" Raf called out to the Autobot leader, "Please, don't shoot the Vehicon! He didn't hurt me. He's nice."

" _Nice_?" Wheeljack asked derisively, "Kid, that thing is a drone. It doesn't have enough free will to be _nice_."

PR-35 had waited long enough for their decision. He transformed into robot mode and just as he predicted, he heard the hum of the Autobot weapons charging and preparing to fire. He held up his own gun arm, ready to go down fighting, when he heard Raf's voice shout for everyone to stop.

"Wait! You don't want to fight us!" Raf told the Vehicon, "Not really! You don't have to die here. There's another way. You could join the Autobots."

Bulkhead actually started laughing at that one, and that big hulking monster's laugh was one of the scariest things PR-35 had ever heard. He was sure that laugh would be followed up with a wrecking ball to the head.

"That's a good one, Raf!" Bulkhead said in between laughing, "You know that thing's not real, right? He's a programmed drone. He could no more join the Autobots than I could sing opera!"

Bulkhead continued to laugh, but Raf fumed. He knew PR-35 wasn't a mere drone. He knew this Vehicon had ideas and feelings just like anyone else. He just had to prove it to the Autobots.

"Optimus, you said freedom is the right of all sentient beings," Raf suddenly said; his voice passionate and contentious, "Well, if PR-35 does turn out to be a sentient being, then that means he belongs to a slave class that's being oppressed by the Decepticons. He needs help, and I know you wouldn't allow him to go back to someone who keeps him as a slave if you knew he was being subjugated. Please, at least test him. I know he's just as real as you or me. Just give him a chance, Optimus. Please."

Optimus didn't believe the Vehicons were actually Cybertronians. He had raided a few of their factories in his day and knew they were merely creations of Shockwave. Still, if these artificial beings had developed a consciousness, then he owed it to them to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

Optimus approached the Vehicon, and PR-35 started shaking at the nearness of the most hated and feared Autobot known to Decepticon kind. This was _Optimus Prime_ , sworn enemy of Megatron, and destroyer of Decepticons and Vehicons everywhere! He knew he should try to fight or run away, but PR-35 also knew there was no escape, so he just stood there and hoped his death would be quick.

"What is your designation?" Optimus Prime asked him in an authoritative voice.

"My serial number is PR-35, sir!" PR-35 replied stiffly as he tried to hold onto his composure.

"I see," Optimus nodded to himself, and PR-35 feared what that gesture might mean for him, "Why did you return Rafael to us?"

"Because he belongs to you," PR-35 replied, "To keep him would be to invite your wrath."

"Do you value your own life, soldier?" Optimus inquired.

"Yes...sir," PR-35 replied; his voice faltering for a moment.

"What do you want in life?" Optimus asked; keeping his tone purposefully neutral to determine the drone's true motives.

"To bring glory to Lord Megatron, sir," PR-35 replied honestly.

"Anything else?" Optimus Prime asked pointedly.

"There is nothing else, sir. I am a drone," PR-35 replied matter-of-factly.

"If Megatron ordered you to offline yourself, would you do it?" Optimus asked.

PR-35 gulped, shifted on his pedes nervously, and then finally replied with "I would, sir. He is my master, and I would have no choice."

"But you do not want to?" Optimus asked for clarification.

"No, sir. I don't," PR-35 replied; his voice shaky, "Please be quick with me, sir. I gave you back Bumblebee's human. I even kept him warm when he was cold."

"I ask you again PR-35, why did you save Rafael?" Optimus asked; his tone softening when he saw how frightened the Vehicon was. He had never seen a Vehicon show fear before. This was a strange case indeed.

"I saved him because he was yours," PR-35 insisted.

"And?" Prime asked with a questioning look.

"And...He's a sparkling," PR-35 admitted, "I know I'm being weak, but he's a sparkling. I have no protocol for humans, and I don't wish to hurt them. They are small and helpless. They are everything I am not. I am a strong, big, expendable warrior. They are helpless, fragile, and irreplaceable. There is only one Raf. There are thousands of Vehicons like me. I don't matter like he does. That is why I returned him to you."

Optimus nodded once again, and then raised his arm. PR-35 flinched and readied himself for the blow, but all he felt was the Prime's hand on his shoulder guard. He was confused by the softness in the Autobot leader's optics. He had never seen that look on a Decepticon's face before, and therefore didn't know what it meant.

"PR-35, I am willing to offer you a choice," Prime told him, "If you fight us, you will be killed. However, if you surrender, you will be held as a prisoner of war. I promise that if you surrender you will be treated fairly, and may eventually qualify for political asylum. Choose carefully."

The other Autobots were surprised by the Prime's offer, but not nearly as surprised as PR-35 himself. Surrender to the Autobots? No Vehicon had ever done that before! Megatron would never take back a drone that had surrendered. It was treason! He knew the honorable thing to do was stand his ground and fight, but the truth was...he didn't want to.

PR-35 powered down his cannon and raised his arms up in surrender. He knew he was making a mistake. He was probably defective or something. He was concerned about his own sanity, but at least this way he would get to stay alive.

* * *

When Bumblebee and Jack had returned they both expected a shootout from the Vehicon. What they got was much weirder than that. Raf was safe and playing video games in his usual spot on the couch, Optimus had taken Arcee and Wheeljack to greet the new arrivals Ironhide and Chromia in Canada, and Ratchet and Bulkhead had stayed behind to guard a Vehicon prisoner.

At first Bumblebee was furious that the Vehicon had taken Raf and wanted to punch it into a wall, but Raf explained about the Vehicon saving his life, and this gave Bumblebee pause. A Vehicon doing something altruistic? It wasn't in their programming. He was definitely suspicious of the drone's motives, but for the moment decided to leave it alone. At least he had Raf back safe and sound.

On the other side of the room Ratchet ran a few diagnostic scans on the Vehicon to check it's vital statistics and figure out how the thing functioned. Bulkhead had stayed behind to guard Ratchet, but that didn't seem to be necessary since the Vehicon was even more terrified of Ratchet than it was of Bulkhead!

"Alright Vehicon, now I need to run a neural scan to see if I can detect processor activity," Ratchet said in a bored analytical tone.

" _No_!" PR-35 suddenly screamed as he tried to jump off the berth; only to be grabbed by Bulkhead, " _No, please_! Stay out of my mind! I'll tell you anything you want to know!"

Ratchet sighed and turned to face the Vehicon with undivided attention.

"You misunderstand, Vehicon," Ratchet said longsufferingly, "This is not the same as the cortical patch the Decepticons use. I'm just scanning to see if you have processor activity. I'm not going to download myself into your mind. Now, _sit down_."

"Yes, sir," PR-35 muttered compliantly, "Oh, and sir? I have a serial number. PR-35."

"You need a _name_ ," Ratchet replied disdainfully, "That is, if we find out you actually are a sentient life form. Of course I have my doubts."

"Yes, sir," PR-35 offered no argument, "Um, are you going to torture me? Because you don't have to. I'm not going to hide anything from you, so you don't have to torture me like you did to ICN-8675. I promise I'll talk."

"Like I did what?" Ratchet asked; confused.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean to offend you, sir!" PR-35 frantically apologized, "I'm sure ICN-8675 did something to deserve it. You're a mech, and mechs are always right! I don't know what a servant class drone could do to hurt you, but I'm sure you were well within your rights to melt part of his face off. I completely support your decision, sir. Please don't do that to me too, sir! I'm on your side!"

"You're talking about when-" Ratchet stopped himself when he remembered the incident PR-35 was talking about, "Listen, that wasn't- I mean I didn't-, listen to me, Vehicon...I had done something terrible to my body, and I wasn't acting like myself that day. My processor was under the influence of an untested substance. I would never torture a servant class drone under normal circumstances. We Autobots don't believe in harming non-combatants. You surrendered, and so far you have cooperated with me. I'm not going to hurt you so long as you continue to cooperate with us. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," PR-35 nodded timidly, "Thank you, sir. By the way, I'm glad your hip joint healed."

"My what?" Ratchet asked obliviously.

"Your hip joint," PR-35 repeated, "You were injured and walking with a cane with a topaz handle. You were walking down some chrome plated stairs that had swirl marks on them. Was that recently? Wait, did that actually happen or did I dream that?"

Ratchet stared at the Vehicon like it had sprouted organic wings and a tail. He did remember the incident the Vehicon was talking about. He had that cane when he lived in Praxus. He had injured his hip joint when he crashed in vehicle mode against a recycling cube, and walked with that cane for 5 orns. There was no way a Vehicon could know about that, however. Vehicons hadn't even been invented yet back when Ratchet lived in Praxus with his sons before the war. How did this Vehicon know about that?

Before Ratchet could question the Vehicon further on the matter he heard a comm request for a ground bridge back to base. Apparently Ironhide and Chromia had made it to earth without incident.

The Autobot team made it back safely, and Optimus looked vorns younger after seeing his friend Ironhide. Arcee of course was very happy because her parents were there at her base and in her life again. Everyone loved to see her like that, since the tragedy of losing two partners usually kept her mood grim and solemn. Now she looked like a youngling again, and it was a wonderful sight to see.

"Hey Ratchet!" Ironhide greeted the medic with an exuberant smile, "It's nice to finally see someone around here as old as I am. I'm gettin' sick of these younglings always tryin' to show me up. So, how're you doin'?"

"As well as can be expected," Ratchet replied noncommittally, "Is there anyone else on their way here?"

"Sorry Doc, but we're it," Chromia replied bluntly, "Our team was killed during the raid on the New Polyhex Station. They killed Blurr, Springer, Wheelie...They even got Jazz."

"No," Optimus sighed ruefully.

"Jazz? The _saboteur_?" Bulkhead asked incredulously.

"A fine Autobot," Optimus replied solemnly, "And a personal friend."

"Arcee tells me that no good fraghead Starscream killed Cliffjumper," Ironhide growled as he thought of the scenario, "Well, now we can finally get back at that snivelin' 'Con!"

"Yeah," Arcee replied gamely; grateful her sire was on her side in this.

"Hey, what the pit is _that_?" Chromia shouted heatedly as she pointed to PR-35.

PR-35 didn't move. He knew if he made an aggressive move now it would all be over. He still had a chance to save himself if he could just stay calm. Maybe later he could ask to be reprogrammed as an Autobot. He'd lose some memories and maybe some of his vicious edge, but it would be worth it to keep his spark intact.

"Do not attack him," Optimus ordered, "That Vehicon has surrendered to us, and is being treated as a prisoner of war. So far he has cooperated fully with us. Right, Ratchet?"

"Um, Optimus? Can I speak to you alone for a second?" Ratchet asked without answering the question, causing a few optic ridges to quirk in curiosity.

Optimus followed Ratchet to a dark corner of the room while Ironhide and Chromia toured the rest of the base with Arcee. Bulkhead kept his optics on the Vehicon, but PR-35 made no attempt to escape.

"Optimus, there is something odd about that drone," Ratchet said lowly.

"I am aware of that, old friend," Optimus replied patiently.

"No Optimus, you don't understand!" Ratchet insisted, "It told me something about myself that it shouldn't have been able to know. It knows about my life in Praxus before the war! How does it know? Not even Megatron knows everything, and I certainly didn't tell Megatron about the time I broke my hip joint!"

"The time you what?" Optimus asked in confusion.

"Never mind!" Ratchet snapped in frustration, "Optimus, that Vehicon has memory files about me, and I don't know where they came from. I'm not even sure the Vehicon knows where they came from. What should I do, Optimus?"

"I do not know, Ratchet," Optimus replied soberly, "Perhaps, however, you could start by calling PR-35 by his designation instead of just calling him _it_ or _the Vehicon_."

Ratchet sighed deeply, but then nodded to indicate he would take his friend's advice. He didn't know what this PR-35 was, but he was going to find out.


	10. Individual

_Author's Notes: I can't believe how long it has been since I updated this fic! This is one of my best stories, and I've been ignoring it! I guess I've just had so many ideas that this one got overlooked for a while. Well, don't worry folks, we are now back to our regularly scheduled Vehicon identity crisis. Thank you so much for reading and/or reviewing :)_

* * *

Chapter 10

Individual

Dreadwing took several Vehicons to investigate the mine that had been attacked by the Autobots. Three Vehicon soldiers had escaped, and it didn't take them long to find the body of one of the downed Vehicon troops. That left one unaccounted for, but Dreadwing was sure that it was probably dead.

He found out from the miners that the Autobots got away with almost half of the energon stock they had collected that day. This would give the Autobots a temporary advantage, and that was not something Dreadwing looked forward to telling Megatron when he returned to the Nemesis.

One thing he noticed about the servant class drones was that there were two that always seemed to be together. They were very... _friendly_ with one another, and that alone sent red flags through Dreadwing's processor. Vehicons were programmed to be asexual and devoted only to Megatron. This behavior was obviously a glitch, but were they both malfunctioning or was it just one of them? Dreadwing decided to find out for himself.

He walked over to where the formech was yelling at the pair of miners, and he could hear one of them spouting off at the formech with pure vitriol in its tone.

"Servants!" Dreadwing snapped to garner their attention, "State your designations."

The pair looked at each other in horror. Superiors only asked for designations if they were about to terminate a Vehicon or if it was in trouble. They held each other's servos, and nodded to one another for comfort.

"I am ICN-995, sir," ICN-995 stated with as much calm as he could, "This is ICN-994. Is there a problem, sir?"

"I couldn't help but notice your behavior," Dreadwing replied, "How are you both feeling?"

"Feeling?" ICN-995 asked; confused, "We are fine, sir. We feel remorse for allowing the Autobots to take the energon, but my mate and I are not equipped with weapons. We will try harder next time."

"Your _mate_?" Dreadwing asked incredulously.

"Yes sir," ICN-995 replied nervously, "ICN-994 is my bondmate. She is also one of our best workers, and neither of us take more than our earned share of energon. I hope we have not displeased you too greatly, sir."

"She?" Dreadwing asked for clarification.

"Oh, here it comes!" ICN-994 shouted in _her_ deep Vehicon voice, "Nobody ever believes me when I tell them I'm a femme, but I am! ICN-995 is my mech, and we're in love! If you don't like it, you can go frag yourself! Sir."

ICN-995 facepalmed when he heard his mate curse out an officer. No Vehicon talked smack about a real mech and lived. His beloved would be melted down for new parts, and he doubted there was anything he could do about it. Dreadwing was armed to the teeth and free to do with them whatever he pleased.

"Guards!" Dreadwing called, and four Vehicon soldiers appeared, "Take these two back to the Nemesis for repairs."

The soldiers complied, and the ICN couple were both dragged through a ground bridge. It wasn't as bad as termination, but ICN-995 knew that repairs could just be code word for torture. He had never had to go see Knockout before, and he certainly didn't want to now. More than that though, he feared what that sadistic officer would do to his precious ICN-994.

* * *

PR-35 onlined to see soft yellow light shining down on him from above where he lay. At first he was confused, because the Nemesis didn't have anything like that. When he came to his senses however, he remembered the previous day's events. He was in the Autobot base, and now there were two new Autobots to contend with. Needless to say, PR-35 was nervous about what this day with hold for him.

He heard voices in the distance, and it sounded as if they were arguing, so he cautiously walked over to the threshold of the training room and listened in to hear what the Autobots were talking about. He didn't know why he cared, but he figured anything he learned could potentially be useful to save his plating later.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Prime," The new black Autobot drawled, "It's just that it seems like a needless risk. For all we know that 'Con in there could be a spy for Megatron!"

Bumblebee pointed out that PR-35 saved Raf's life.

"I know, but that could be part of it," Ironhide (yes, that was his designation) pointed out, "For all we know he could be implanting listening devices while our backs are turned!"

 _Uh oh, should not be eavesdropping..._ PR-35 thought with trepidation.

"Ratchet believes this Vehicon might have memories of the Golden Age implanted into his processor," Optimus informed the others, "Until we know why, we need to keep him under close surveillance."

Wait, _what_? PR-35 wasn't sure he understood what they meant by what they just said about him. The Autobots thought he had memories from before he was built? How would that even be possible? He could barely keep his own lifetime's memories straight!

He heard the Autobots' pede steps as they were leaving the training room, and quickly ran back to his berth to pretend to still be in recharge. PR-35 allowed himself to relax and hoped none of the Autobots suspected he had been listening to them. No doubt about it, he was getting too old for this scrap.

* * *

Knockout entered the medbay to see one Vehicon strapped down to the berth and another one by its side trying desperately to pull away the restraints.

"What do you think you're doing?" Knockout snapped at the Vehicon like it was a misbehaving dog, "Sit down so I can get to work."

"No, you mustn't do this!" The Vehicon pleaded, "Don't remove her memories, I beg you! We need each other. I can't afford to lose her!"

" _Her_?" Knockout asked skeptically, "So, you're malfunctioning. You believe this drone is a female."

"I am a femme!" The other Vehicon protested, "I didn't do anything wrong! Let me out! If I were a warrior class drone I'd shoot you dead!"

"Wow, such venom," Knockout chided mockingly, "You really _are_ malfunctioning. No drone threatens a Decepticon officer unless they're glitched. Now, let's have a look at that processor..."

Knockout drew closer to the Vehicons, and ICN-995 had a choice to make. He could allow Knockout to perform the surgery and lose his mate forever, or he could...

ICN-995 took a tray full of medical tools and used it to beat Knockout upside the helm with! Knockout was dazed but still conscious. While he was distracted, ICN-995 pulled away the restraints and grabbed ICN-994. He ran out carrying her, and Knockout growled before activating his comm.

/This is Knockout calling all available troops on the third level,/ Knockout ordered, /I want you to track down and terminate drones ICN-994 and ICN-995./

He knew he was supposed to repair them, but he got so sick of dealing with defective drones that this time he decided to just forget the whole thing and scrap them. Their parts were probably worth more than they were alive anyway. He looked at his dented helm and cursed again. At least those drones would pay for ruining his finish and denting his beautiful frame.

ICN-995 set down his mate a few kliks from where they started. They heard the order same as the warrior class drones. Now everyone on the Nemesis had turned against them and they had to get away!

"Where are we going to go, honey?" ICN-994 asked in a timid tone of voice she didn't normally use.

"I don't know," ICN-995 replied soberly, "Maybe we can go to a new base. Change our serial numbers and dye our plating grey to look like Eradicons. I can be ICN-995.3, and you can be ICN-994.7. We just have to get off this boat."

"I always have admired your creative mind," ICN-994 gushed in an almost lustful tone of voice, "I never would've thought of those serial numbers. When this is over, I want you to figure out how we can make love!"

"Um, I don't think we can," ICN-995 replied bashfully as they continued to search for an exit, "Oh, I know! We can hold servos."

"Brilliant!" ICN-994 exclaimed, "I haven't seen you take this much initiative since we collected all those energon crystals and you waited 3.5 extra seconds before calling for a ground bridge. Oh, I _love_ _it_ when you're rebellious!"

As they ran toward the outdoor hangar, they were suddenly stopped by a Vehicon in the soldier class, and they knew then that they were doomed. Oh well, it was a good plan while it lasted.

"End of the line," The Vehicon trooper quipped as he raised his cannon arm.

"Don't shoot!" ICN-995 exclaimed as he held up his worn servos in surrender, "We didn't mean to disobey our superiors. We just wanted to stay together as bondmates. Could you at least take us to Knockout before we're terminated so that we can plea our case?"

The warrior class drone quirked a brow ridge, but then lowered his weapons and smirked at the pair of servant class drones.

"So, you're the ones, huh? I remember you," The Vehicon chuckled, "Eh, you're not hurtin' anybody. Let's get you outta here."

"Wait, you're helping us _escape_? Why?" ICN-994 asked incredulously.

"I dunno. I like you guys, I guess," The Vehicon shrugged before directing them down a hallway that led to the ground bridge, "By the way, my serial number is SS-PLX-04, but you can call me 4."

"Oh yeah, you were one of the drones the Autobots attacked," ICN-994 recalled, "So how did you avoid getting scrapped out there?"

"I'm good," 4 replied vaguely, "Okay, now Soundwave is probably monitoring the ground bridge room, so we don't have long. Do you know the coordinates you wanna go to?"

"No," ICN-995 admitted, "But we're flexible. Whatever you want to do, we'll go along with it."

4 nodded gamely and started thinking about all the different places he'd heard about on earth. The only places he knew about were the ones mentioned in song lyrics. He flipped through his playlist to try to find a good spot to hide out for a while.

 _Welcome to the Hotel California_

 _Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)_

 _Such a lovely face_

 _Livin' it up in the Hotel California..._

"Okay guys, we're goin' to California," 4 announced, "It's a big place where we can blend in and get lost among the drunken crowds. Who's with me?"

"Do you even have to ask?" ICN-994 replied rhetorically.

SS-PLX-04 ran ahead of them to scope out the area. When they made it to the ground bridge he convinced the other Vehicons on duty that they were being transferred to energon storage area guard duty. They didn't question it. Vehicons that questioned things were usually shot for their trouble. That complacent attitude was exactly what 4 was counting on.

He motioned for the pair of miners in the hallway to follow him into the ground bridge control room. They were apprehensive, fearing it could still be a trap, but they had no other hope than this soldier class drone that was still practically a stranger.

They walked into the room to see 4 was already punching in coordinates for Compton, a neighborhood somewhere in California. They didn't know exactly where it was, but it didn't really matter to them. As long as they could be together.

"One thing, guys," 4 said in a warning tone, "Accordin' to my rap albums, this is a pretty dangerous area. Just remember not to shoot anyone if they scratch your paint. Only if they try to steal your tires."

"Humans steal _tires_?" ICN-995 asked incredulously, "And they say we Decepticons are savages."

The ground bridge activated, and 4 set the timer for the ground bridge for 10 seconds so they woulnd't be followed. The three Vehicons crossed the green swirling threshold and walked into the unknown world that lurked beyond.

* * *

PR-35 didn't know what to do with himself. He considered trying to contact someone from the Nemesis to let them know of his location, but somehow that seemed rude after everything the Prime had done for him. He thought about striking up a conversation with one of the 'Bots, but they all scared him. It seemed the only friend he had on this whole base was Rafael, and Bumblebee glared at him every time he got too close. Given Bumblebee was the least hostile toward him, PR-35 didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his good standing with the yellow mech.

PR-35 thought back to his younger days when he was a new drone being commanded by Shockwave. Everything was so simple then. Attack intruders, listen while Shockwave murmured to himself, and guard prisoners. Back then Autobots were nothing but the enemy, and nobody could prove organics really existed. Now though...PR-35 was so confused.

"PR-35," Optimus Prime called out, and hearing that resonate baritone speak his serial number was enough to make the jumpy Vehicon squeal in surprise, "I did not mean to frighten you, PR-35. I merely wish you to come into the medbay for a moment."

"The medbay?" PR-35 squeaked nervously.

He was familiar with medbays. He wasn't sick, so there were only a few things the Autobots could want with him. They could want to vivisect him to learn more about how to construct their own Vehicons. They could want to interrogate and torture him for information about Megatron. They could want to infect him with a virus behind his back and send him back to the Nemesis. PR-35 shuddered at those thoughts.

"PR-35, are you coming?" Optimus repeated his request.

"...Yes sir," PR-35 reluctantly replied; his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't know what the Prime wanted, but he also knew disobeying the Autobots' leader was grounds for termination. In this moment he really wished Breakdown was still alive. Breakdown was a good boss and would have protected him from whatever the evil Autobots wanted to do to him. PR-35 had never hated a Decepticon on his life, and what he felt now wasn't exactly hatred, but he really felt betrayed by Airachnid killing Breakdown.

"Oh, good. The Vehicon's here," Ratchet said dispassionately when he saw PR-35 walk into his medbay, "Have a seat in the examination chair. I want to ask you a few questions."

"Oh no...You're going to _patch_ me, aren't you!?" PR-35 wailed in a panic, "Listen, you don't want to do that! My mind is boring! You know what Vehicons do for fun? _Nothing_! We're boring! Boring I tell you! Leave me alone!"

Optimus stared at the flailing Vehicon in confusion before exiting the room, and Ratchet rubbed his helm and sighed impatiently.

"Vehicon, calm down," Ratchet ordered, "We're not hooking you up to the cortical psychic patch. I merely want to ask you a few questions. If you answer them honestly and to the best of your ability then everything will be just fine. Now, will you stay here and answer my questions?"

"Yes, sir," PR-35 replied timidly; relieved to not have his processor hacked by Shockwave's invasive interrogation device, "What do you want to know?"

"First of all, you remembered that I had an accident involving stairs that broke my hip joints during the Golden Age of Cybertron," Ratchet began.

"That's when that was?" PR-35 asked dumbly, "I didn't know I had any memories from that long ago. How can I? I'm a Vehicon."

"That's what we're going to find out," Ratchet replied, "Now, tell me what you believe your earliest memory is."

"Being programmed by Megatron along with my fellow Vehicons," PR-35 recalled fondly, "It was the happiest day of my life. Of course, it was also the first day of my life. I guess you could say I peaked early. Everything went downhill from there."

"Alright then," Ratchet took a few notes before continuing with the questioning, "Okay Vehicon, tell me everything you know about me."

"Well..." PR-35 struggled to come up with an answer that wouldn't upset the medic, since he still remembered Ratchet nearly melting a lowly servant's face off, "I remember our medic Knockout saying you made synthetic energon. You must be a great scientist."

"Yes, what else?" Ratchet prodded.

"Um...I know you like earth," PR-35 shrugged, "I'll bet you have all sorts of cool souvenirs. We Vehicons aren't allowed to own things. I keep a cleaning cloth in my chest compartment, but I'm not supposed to. I've always wanted to have things of my very own. I don't even know what exactly I'd want. Just...things."

"You're getting off track," Ratchet snapped; his voice barely cracking and almost betraying how hurt he felt for the drone that just yesterday he thought was a mere machine.

If the Vehicon could want things, then that would go toward proving its sentience. The fact that Megatron kept these drones as slaves...Ratchet was starting to feel disgusted by it, but he wasn't ready to let the Vehicon know that just yet. He still needed information.

"What else do you know about me?" Ratchet pressed forward.

"I know you went to a play once," PR-35 offered, "At least, I think you did. I could have dreamt that. There was a purple and white mech, and he was really shiny. He was on stage singing, and the show ended with fireworks. It was beautiful, and you were there. It might've just been a dream."

If Ratchet were human, his face would have paled. He remembered that play. It was called _Over Caste_ , and it was a play about a high caste merchant that adopted a low caste sparkling only for the townspeople to turn on him. The grand finale was when the sparkling receives a high caste upgrade, and his joy was displayed as literal fireworks.

Ratchet also remembered why he went to see that play. The broadcast projector had broken in his home, and Bluestreak was upset because it would take 4 orns before a repair-mech could come out to fix it. After 3 orns without broadcasts Bluestreak was starting to feel despondent, so Ratchet took him to see a play to show him how old school mechs got by before broadcasts were invented. He smiled wistfully when he remembered what a good time Bluestreak had. He had promised to take the little sparkling out to more plays, but they never got the chance.

"What was your designation again, Vehicon?" Ratchet finally asked once he pulled himself back to harsh reality.

"PR-35, sir," PR-35 replied, "Sir, why did you smile? Did I tell you something important? Am I in trouble?"

"Huh? No, you, uh, you're free to go," Ratchet stammered, still lost in his own world, "If I have further questions I'll let you know, and I expect you to respond. Understand?"

"Yes sir," PR-35 nodded briskly, "Only a fool disobeys a medic."

Ratchet probably would have made a wisecrack at that reply if he had been in the proper state of mind to do so. However, this Vehicon was raising more questions than he was answering. Ratchet was starting to put the pieces together after listening to the Vehicon recall memories about him. The drone couldn't have spied on him, or have information from a spy. These memories were from before Ratchet joined the Autobots. They couldn't be Prowl's memories. Prowl didn't even see that play! No, there was only one answer. The Vehicon had Bluestreak's memories. The questions now became _how_ and _why_.


	11. The Most Important Thing

_Author's Notes: This chapter is a short one, but it has a lot of answers to this story. Well, you guys probably know them already, but humor me. I am always happy to see how many readers are enjoying this story. Part of me thinks I should update this one quicker, but you already know why I don't. Too many stories, not enough time ^_^'_

 _Anyway, thank you for reading, reviewing, and following this fic. I hope you enjoy this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

* * *

Chapter 11

The Most Important Thing

4, ICN-994, and ICN-995 made it to Compton. They landed on a road right beside a construction zone. It was dark out by now, which was a good cover for the Vehicons. They were still in robot mode.

"Alright guys, let's transform and find a place to recharge for the night," 4 suggested.

"Yes sir!" Both Vehicon servants shouted in unison.

4 then transformed into his vehicle mode, a sleek concept car that was standard for all Vehicon soldiers, and the ICNs transformed into...industrial drills.

"Aw, fraggit!" 4 groused as he sunk down on his tires, "You two can't be seen in a populated area lookin' like that! You're too big, and nobody drives a drill on the open road!"

"We can't help it," ICN-995 replied apologetically, "This is just how Shockwave built us."

"Yeah, in case you forgot, we do _actual work_ for Lord Megatron!" ICN-994 snapped irritably.

"Alright, alright, no need to get testy," 4 replied impatiently, "Alright, there's a construction sight. You guys can recharge over there, and I'll recharge on the curb. Tomorrow we'll leave and look for some place to call home."

"And then what?" ICN-995 asked curiously.

"There is no 'then what'," 4 replied bluntly, "We just have to take it one day at a time and hope we don't get scrapped by anybody. Just remember, everyone is your enemy. All we have now is each other. I hope you can live with that."

"Well, considering we only expected to be two instead of three, I'd say this is an improvement over my plan," ICN-995 replied; his voice smiling even though his drill form couldn't, "Goodnight 4. Goodnight ICN-994."

"Goodnight 4. Goodnight ICN-995," ICN-994 replied wearily.

"Goodnight you two," 4 replied good naturedly, "Sleep well. Don't dream of scraplets."

With those words the three fugitive Vehicons found their parking spaces and went into recharge. Recharging in vehicle mode wasn't exactly comfortable, but at least they could escape faster this way if they were discovered.

* * *

VS-5001 was a very concerned Eradicon. Lately over 20% of the Vehicon and Eradicon troops were experiencing strange dreams and hallucinations, with a few of them even claiming to have actual sparks. This was very bad for VS-5001. He was in charge of the Eradicon forces, and he didn't feel like having his mechs turned over to Knockout for dismantlement just because of a few processor glitches.

Now, most drones would be content to allow the superior officers to deal with this problem, but VS-5001 knew that real mechs dealt with such problems by smashing them out of existence. He didn't want to lose any more of Megatron's resources than necessary, so he decided to try to figure out what was going on himself.

To be honest, part of him thought his Eradicons were merely caving in to stress when he first noticed the changes. When Starscream was SIC the Eradicons were viewed as a higher class of drone. They were commissioned to look like Starscream, unlike the Vehicons which were designed to resemble the late Shockwave. It was a source of pride for the Eradicons. With Starscream banished and Dreadwing in command the Eradicons were now just as lowly as the Vehicons. That seemed like a reasonable source of stress to VS-5001.

But no, that wasn't the problem. Vehicons were experiencing this too. In fact, the largest population affected was the servant class drones. VS-5001 knew these cases had to be connected somehow, so he got to work figuring out how.

First he thought about diet. Were the dreaming Vehicons getting energon that was somehow different than everyone else's? He looked into it, and no, everyone got the same energon. Next he considered the berths. Maybe they were defective. No, that wasn't it either. VS-5001 even examined which wash racks each drone used to ensure it wasn't a poisoned oil supply in their pipes. That wasn't it either.

VS-5001 was getting frustrated, but then he hit on the answer.

It all started when VS-5001 went into Knockout's medbay and saw the red medic ripping out HLX-034's vital components to kill him faster. Knockout said this drone was one of the ones that was acting strange, and this gave VS-5001 an idea. He told Knockout that he needed a part for Soundwave that was on the top shelf but that he didn't trust his own clumsy hands to grab it. This forced Knockout to get the part himself, and the Eradicon used this moment to open up the dead Vehicon and examine it.

At first nothing seemed amiss. Everything was in place. Then VS-5001 got to the drone's helm, right where a chip near the processor lay, and he saw the corrosion. It was slowly burned away, but VS-5001 didn't know why. He was no scientist, so he didn't even understand what the part was for. Still, he stored that information and searched for more clues.

He tried to link the drones that were hallucinating. They were from different classes, they had different jobs, and they had habits that were the same as the unaffected population. What could cause that unknown chip in their helms to burn out? Then, like a bolt from a blaster, it hit him.

Those chips were made from a combination of Cybertanium and an element the humans called Europium (called Helexium on Cybertron). That meant the chips were very sensitive to oxygen. Oxygen was in earth's atmosphere, and all of these drones had been sent down to the planet for various missions. That was it! It was earth! The oxygen on earth was burning out their chips and making the Vehicons crazy!

Of course, without proof no officer would ever believe him. He would need proof. There was only one way to prove his theory. He would have to spend enough time on earth to burn out his own chip. It was dangerous, but for the sake of his troops it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

* * *

4 and ICN-995 awoke to the sound of ICN-994 screaming madly and transforming into robot mode! 4 scanned for life forms, saw nothing, and then transformed into robot mode as well to calm the flailing Vehicon. ICN-994 took in a few deep intakes and managed to calm herself down. ICN-995 rushed over to be by her side.

"Where...Where am I?" ICN-994 asked in confusion; shaking fearfully as she looked all around her, "Where's the sparkling?"

"The what now?" 4 asked; equally confused.

"Holy pit...I think I just had a _dream_ ," ICN-994 whispered in horror, "ICN-995, I think I'm going crazy. I had a dream, and I can still remember it!"

"Calm down, sweet spark," ICN-995 said soothingly as he rubbed ICN-994's back, "Tell me what you saw. Maybe that will make you feel better."

"It was weird," ICN-994 replied; still partially in a daze, "It was a mine just like a hundred other mines we've worked on over the vorns. This one was on Cybertron, and it was broad daylight. I was outside, on top of the mountain that was being drilled and it was hot. I was small, _really_ small, and the Autobot Bulkhead was there."

"That _does_ sound like a nightmare," ICN-995 replied sympathetically.

"No, you don't understand!" ICN-994 wailed helplessly, "It wasn't like _Bulkhead_ Bulkhead. It was...he was a sparkling, but he was still bigger than me. He was playing by himself and I watched him. I didn't feel afraid. Then, there was a crag in the mountain top where we were, and Bulkhead toppled over and fell into it. He grabbed hold of the edge, and he cried out for help. I rushed over to try to save him, but I was so small and not strong enough to pull him out. I was yelling 'Help me! Help me!', but no one heard me. Then I woke up."

"You tried to save _an_ _Autobot_?" 4 asked critically.

"He wasn't an Autobot in the dream!" ICN-994 snapped, "It was weird. I don't know why, but in the dream it felt like...I don't quite know how to put this. It felt like...that tiny version of Bulkhead was the most precious thing in the entire universe. Like if I let him fall then I would lose everything. It was more terrifying than almost anything else I've ever felt..."

"But it was just a dream, sweet spark," ICN-995 pointed out.

"I know, but it felt _so real,_ " ICN-994 said breathily, "I wanted you there with me in the dream, but I couldn't make you come to me. Part of me wants to recharge again just to see if I ever pulled the sparkling out of the crag."

"Let's just say you did," ICN-995 suggested as he looked lovingly into his mate's visor, "Let's just say you rescued him, that I came for you, and that we all went back down into the mine for a nice cube of energon."

"Thank you, ICN-995," ICN-994 replied gratefully, then after composing herself she asked,"So, what's our plan for today?"

"What else? Keep runnin'," 4 told them in a flat tone of voice, "Let's just stay off the main path though. You two just don't fit in with these leisure vehicles."

With those words the three Vehicon fugitives left the area of Compton and made their way to parts unknown. While most vehicles would drive along the highway, 4 and the ICN couple purposefully kept to the areas off the road. They hid behind buildings, trees, and whatever else they could find. They didn't know where they were going, but they knew they couldn't stop yet.

* * *

PR-35 was getting sick of all the medical tests. Ratchet had scanned his processor twice, had tested his reflexes, had taken enough energon samples to feed a grown mech, and had asked a million questions about everything from his function aboard the Nemesis to his favorite genre of broadcast! Still, as awful as this was, PR-35 still thought it was better than interacting with the other Autobots. The new couple that had arrived the week before didn't care for him at all, and most of the other Autobots besides Optimus Prime and Ratchet scared him.

One thing he was surprised by was the Prime's attitude toward him. PR-35 expected Megatron's worst enemy to look for any excuse to deactivate a drone, but Optimus Prime was actually one of the few 'Bots that was genuinely nice to him. Optimus went out of his way to see to it that PR-35 was well cared for and fueled properly. It made PR-35 rethink everything he thought he knew about Autobots.

" _Nothing_ ," He heard Ratchet mutter under his vocalizer.

"What's nothing, sir?" PR-35 asked curiously.

"I can't seem to find a reason why you have those memories," Ratchet replied in frustration, "Your processor seems normal for a drone, although you do have some slight corrosion in your command matrix."

"My what?" PR-35 asked, but then ducked his helm when he realized he had interrupted the medic, "Sorry sir."

"It's alright," Ratchet sighed, exhausted but trying to not take it out on one of the few patients he ever had that was cooperative with him, "Your command matrix. It's the device that holds your basic programming. It's the part of you that makes you loyal to Megatron, that helps you prioritize tasks, and that gives you your fighting skills. It's kind of like a second processor. I suppose Vehicons have two in case one fails. Shockwave always did believe in overdoing his work rather than be caught unprepared. It holds no answers, however. It wasn't damaged enough to account for your unusual behavior or for why you have memories you shouldn't."

"As much as I hate tests, I should probably point out that you haven't examined my spark yet," PR-35 pointed out, though with a hint of reluctance.

"You don't have a-" But before Ratchet could finish PR-35 had the gears inside him pull back his chassis to reveal the spark inside, "By the Allspark! I don't believe it! Megatron commissioned Shockwave to create _living_ soldiers to serve as his drones? It's all true? Alright then, let me take a scan."

Ratchet went back into professional mode as he diligently scanned the spark. He knew it was a long shot. Sparks were as unique as human fingerprints, and all Cybertronian sparks from before the war were recorded in the Iacon database. It seemed unlikely that this would be helpful to them, however. Vehicons didn't come about until after the war. If Ratchet wanted answers, however, he knew he had to try everything.

After scanning the spark he ordered PR-35 to close his chassis, and then the medic went about running the scans through the computer. PR-35 tried to watch, but he couldn't see most of the computer screen over Ratchet's massive shoulders. Sighing, PR-35 slumped back down on the berth; knowing there would probably be a million more tests.

Ratchet waited for the Iacon records to pop up and tell him whether or not there was a match to anyone from pre-war Cybertron. Ratchet was sure he was wasting his time, yet there was a part of him that wondered if there was more to this than he was seeing. The computer pinged at him, and he turned to the screen to look at the results. What he saw on the monitor made his energon run cold.

 _Name: Bluestreak_

 _Place of Birth: Allspark_

 _Registry: Praxus_

 _Age: 42,050 vorns_

 _Alt Mode: Car_

 _Optics: Blue_

 _Plating: Grey w/ red and silver accents._

 _Sire: Ratchet_


	12. What Dreams Are Made Of

_Author's Notes: I know this chapter is short, but there really didn't need to be anything else for now. I must say the response to this fic has been overwhelming, especially lately. I'm so glad so many of you enjoy this story, and I will try to keep the quality intact going forward. I don't really know how long this story is going to be. I suppose that all depends on how many ideas I get for new chapters. Of course I already know how I want it to end, but I'm leaving room for growth between now and then. Thank you for reading, and I hope you will review, favorite, and follow this fic :)_

* * *

Chapter 12

What Dreams Are Made Of

PR-35 was starting to get fidgety. Ratchet had left immediately after getting the results from the spark test and had deleted everything from his computer. PR-35 didn't know what was going on, but he could see that Ratchet was acting weird. PR-35 didn't know what to do with his time, so he stared up at the wall. It was made of rock from the mountain the base was built within, so PR-35 tried to see designs in the cracks and bumps.

One design looked a lot like a femme's helm in profile, and another looked like a chicken, which was a bird on earth known for crossing roads and tasting like itself. He also saw some bumps that, when he turned his helm just right, looked like three racing cars. This image made another image flash through his processor; the image of a red and a gold car racing ahead of him.

PR-35 was starting to see his dream images during the day when he was wide awake, and it was starting to concern him. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew it was probably the reason the Autobot medic was performing so many tests on him. He hoped he wasn't sick or something. He was just starting to enjoy the idea of living, and he didn't want to die for a stupid reason like a virus.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ratchet came back into the medbay holding a cube of energon. He handed the cube to PR-35, but the Vehicon was reluctant to drink it. Ratchet looked pensive. That might mean he poisoned the energon.

"So, PR-35. It hardly seems right to call you by such an impersonal designation," Ratchet said; trying and failing to sound casual as he spoke to his patient, "Would you prefer to have a real name?"

"Um, I don't know," PR-35 replied nervously, "I mean, I don't really want one. I've been PR-35 my entire life. I'm not sure I can get used to another designation. Of course, if it's an order then I'll comply. I don't want any trouble."

"No, no, it's not an order. Merely a suggestion," Ratchet quickly told him, and then carefully placed his servos in his lap to keep them from shaking, "Listen, I got the results back from your spark test. I...oh, I just don't understand how this could _happen_!"

"What?" PR-35 yelped frantically, "Am I dying? I'm dying, aren't I? I knew it! I have a virus! I'm gonna wind up in the scrap yard!"

"No no no, you're not sick!" Ratchet yelled while PR-35 was still wailing, " _Listen to me_! You're not ill."

"Then why are you so upset?" PR-35 asked sharply, "What could be worse than dying?"

 _Having your entire life stolen from you._ Ratchet thought to himself.

"PR-35, I need to speak to Optimus and the others about what I've found out," Ratchet said as a distant haunted look crossed his face plate, "I think what I've discovered about you could have grim ramifications for the entire Cybertronian War. I'm sorry, but I just can't talk about it now. I need some time to process what I've seen. You'll be fine, though. Just drink your energon and rest. If anyone gives you any trouble you come straight to me, you understand? I'm here for you, Blu- uh, PR-35. Everything is going to be alright."

PR-35 knew a medic saying things like that was a bad sign, but he could also tell that Ratchet wasn't going to talk about it until he was ready to. The Vehicon gently nodded and took a sip of his energon; hoping with all his might that it wasn't poison. He watched the medic go and wondered why the old 'Bot was so upset. What could be so special about one drone that it could affect the entire war? PR-35 was confused, and he wanted nothing more than to take Ratchet's advice and rest.

* * *

The lights flickered in the space station. He searched for Autobots, but couldn't find any. The halls were made of white plastic, a rather cheap material that indicated the station was never meant to be permanent. Everything felt hollow and eerie to the soldier as he searched for any signs of life.

Then, as he turned a corner, he saw the main airlock where many Autobots had escaped, and standing right beside it was Prowl; the commander of the station. Of all the mechs he could encounter, why did it have to be _him_?

"You're here," Prowl said to him in a bland monotone, "You are too late. They are gone. You will never find them."

Something about the words felt wrong. They didn't sound like the words of a living mech, but rather of an echoing shell. Even Prowl's blue optics didn't seem to have light in them, and the soldier was nervous in the presence of such cold emptiness.

"You should have run," He found himself saying to the Praxian.

"No, _you_ should have run," Prowl replied sadly as he hung his helm, "I did what I was supposed to do, and I will die knowing what I did made a difference. You, however, will not have this fate."

Prowl's coloring then disappeared, and nothing was left but a glowing outline of where he had stood. The outline continued to look at him, and suddenly the floor gave way!

The soldier felt the pull of escaping air as he was sucked out into space, and the stars glistened innocently in the expanse. He was floating, yet he was falling. Suddenly a flash of light appeared before his optics, and he was in a courtroom.

There was a black and white mech kneeling on the ground surrounded by seekers and bound in chains. His blue visor was cracked, but he still stared defiantly up at the group of Decepticons. No one noticed the soldier as he stood there and bore witness to what was transporting.

"Autobot Jazz, you have been found guilty of crimes against Lord Megatron," Starscream sneered at the helpless prisoner, "For your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to be used as experimentation fodder by Shockwave. Oh, and I hear he has some _new_ _equipment_ to test..."

Starscream and the group of seekers with him laughed at the Autobot's misfortune. The soldier could do nothing but watch as he was carried away. It felt like his pedes were stuck to the floor. Before the Autobot was out of earshot, however, he heard something yelled and almost sobbed from the halls.

"You killed Prowl! I hope you rot in the pit, you monsters! You killed Prowl! You killed him! _You killed him_!"

...

VS-5001 awoke in a mineshaft with a mild helmache. He thought of what he had just seen and nodded to himself. His research was correct. His command chip was malfunctioning and now he too was experiencing the strange dreams. He would have to take this information to Knockout and hope the medic would be able and willing to cure him and the other troops.

* * *

When Ratchet gathered the other Autobots no one quite knew what to expect regarding the tests performed on PR-35, but what Ratchet told them when they asked him about it was beyond shocking.

"You think he's your _what_?" Ironhide asked skeptically.

"My son; Bluestreak. All the evidence points to it," Ratchet repeated; his voice still a little shaky.

"That's ridiculous!" Chromia exclaimed disbelievingly, "It's a _Vehicon_ , Ratchet. Not even the Decepticons have the technology to disguise a mech as a drone."

"It's not a disguise!" Ratchet exclaimed in frustration, "He _is_ a drone! His body isn't nearly as advanced as ours, but spark signatures don't lie! He _is_ Bluestreak. He is my son! Oh, Optimus...He's my son. My son is alive. My _sparkling_ is _alive_."

"This has obviously been an ordeal for you, Ratchet," Optimus replied before Ratchet had the chance to completely break down, "Does he know?"

"No, I don't know how to tell him," Ratchet rubbed in between his optics as he spoke, "He obviously doesn't recognize me. As far as he knows he was born a Vehicon and lives only to serve Megatron. He thinks he's an expendable piece of machinery like a scanner or a gun," Ratchet's sorrow turned to rage as he said, "Megatron turned my youngest son into a toy soldier! He ripped my son's spark out of his chassis and implanted it into the suppressed body of a mindless drone!"

Ratchet was shaking with fury as he thought about everything Megatron had forced Bluestreak to do, and the marginalized life his sparkling had led. Ratchet grabbed the nearest thing he could find, a lobbing ball, and threw it as hard as he could against the wall to vent some of his frustration. The ball shattered on impact!

"Ratchet! I needed that!" Bulkhead complained.

Ratchet turned and glared sharply at Bulkhead, who just held up his servos in surrender and backed off.

"Wait a minute, you're saying that without the spark test there's no way of telling an actual drone from a Cybertronian that was turned into a drone?" Arcee asked as the implications began to sink in.

"I've thought about that," Ratchet said quietly; his anger abated for the moment, "The conclusion I came to isn't a good one. The truth is, there's no way of knowing if there _are_ non-sentient drones. PR-35 isn't a unique Vehicon just to look at him. He's just like every other drone Megatron has. If one of them can be a civilian-turned-weapon, then all of them likely are as well."

No one said anything for a moment. The possibility that every Vehicon that had been killed in battle was a potential innocent victim or loved one...

"You don't think the test was rigged?" Ironhide asked almost hopefully, "I mean, this could all be part of some elaborate plan for Megatron to learn the location of our base."

[I don't think PR-35 could keep up a lie that long,] Bumblebee pointed out, [He talks too much to keep a secret.]

"Bluestreak loved to talk," Ratchet muttered as he looked down at the ground to avoid the sympathetic stares of his friends, "He would talk to anyone, about anything. Most of the time he started off talking about one thing and then would change the subject ten times over the course of the conversation. His teacher once said he believed Bluestreak had a processor glitch that kept him from focusing. I never thought of it as a glitch though. It was just a part of what made him who he was. I miss him so much. I never should've left him alone!"

"Ratchet, we cannot change the past," Optimus replied as he placed a comforting servo on Ratchet's back, "However, we can shape the future. You have been given a rare gift. Whatever form he has now, you have your son back. You have an opportunity to bond with him again, and to get to know him as he is now. I believe once this situation comes to light Bluestreak will need a sire more than ever, and he will have one."

"Thank you, Optimus. I needed to hear that," Ratchet replied gratefully, "I just know Megatron has probably taught him to hate me, but I won't let that stop me. I just hope we can repair the bond that has been lost for so long."

There was still a lot of planning to do regarding the other Vehicons on Megatron's warship. They would have to be more careful when they fought from now on, and the hopes of saving all of them were slim. The Autobots would have to plan their next move together, but Ratchet already knew what he needed to do next. He needed to talk to his son.


	13. Need Medical Kit

_Author's Notes: Well, this chapter took longer than I had hoped, but it's finally finished! I think this one turned out pretty good. It mostly focuses on the budding relationship between PR-35 and Ratchet and the difficulties they will face now that they both know the truth. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and please don't forget to leave a review :)_

* * *

Chapter 13

Need Medical Kit

PR-35 saw Ratchet coming into the medbay once again and quickly stopped snooping in the medicine cabinets. He hopped onto the berth and tried to look like he had been resting the entire time. The medic came in, and still had that worried look on his face plate. PR-35 wondered if the Prime had ordered his execution, or if he had some sort of contagious deadly disease.

"I need to talk to you about where you came from," Ratchet said without preamble, "I know this situation has been confusing for you, and frankly it's been confusing for me too, but you need to know the truth."

"What truth?" PR-35 asked cautiously, "Am I in danger?"

"From us, no," Ratchet replied as he sat down on PR-35's berthside.

Ratchet heaved a long sigh, and then he did something the drone didn't expect; he grabbed the Vehicon's servo and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. PR-35 had never had anyone do that in his entire life, and he didn't know the proper way to respond. He couldn't grab Ratchet's servo as well; his other arm had a gun on the end of it. He settled for staring nervously at the medic like a trapped animal in a cage.

"Listen, I scanned your spark and..." Ratchet squeezed the servo tighter as if he were holding onto a lifeline, and PR-35 winced because the medic's strong grip hurt, "...and I found out that your spark belongs to my long lost son Bluestreak. There is only one explanation I can come up with, however farfetched it may seem. I am your sire."

"My... _what_?" PR-35 squeaked out; barely above a whisper.

"The Decepticons did something to your body and to your processor, but you are my son, Bluestreak," Ratchet stated vehemently, "I know this sounds odd, but I am your sire. You are my son."

"So...does this mean you won't kill me?" PR-35 managed to ask despite not really understanding what was happening.

Ratchet couldn't contain himself anymore after hearing those words. His optics welled up with cleaning fluid and he suddenly grabbed PR-35 to wrap him in an embrace. He hugged the Vehicon and cried into his neck cables, and PR-35 didn't know what to think about this.

Surely the medic had to be mistaken. Surely there was no way he could have lived an entire life he didn't know about. This didn't make any sense, and yet he didn't think a medic could be wrong about something like this. After all, Breakdown was a medic and he was the mech that introduced him to his spark. He would also get snippets of Ratchet's life in his processor. Maybe it _was_ true.

"Excuse me, Doctor?" PR-35 was timid as he spoke, "If you are my sire, then can you tell me of other visions I have in my processor that I can't explain?"

"Maybe," Ratchet replied as he finally let go of his remodeled youngling, "What sort of things have you been seeing?"

"Well, sometimes I see a gold and a red car speed by. Do you know what that is?" PR-35 asked apprehensively.

"Red and gold?" Ratchet asked with a scowl, "Yes, I remember them. They were two hoodlums that went to your school and would often come by our house and scarf down our energon. Went by the designations Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. They went to your school, and Sideswipe was your best friend...whether I liked it or not."

"What happened to them?" PR-35 asked.

"No one knows," Ratchet shrugged, "After Praxus was destroyed I never saw either of them again. There were rumors they ran away to Tyger Pax, but they were only rumors."

"I also sometimes see a black and white mech with a chevron like yours," PR-35 told him, "Do you know who that is?"

At this Ratchet sighed again. This was proving to be an emotionally draining day for the old medic.

"That mech was your older brother; Prowl," Ratchet replied in a haggard tone of voice, "Do you remember anything specific about him?"

"Not right now, but sometimes I do after I wake up from a dream," PR-35 explained, "I've always wanted a brother. Sir...is this, um, Prowl, still alive?"

"No," Ratchet whispered ruefully, "He was killed by Decepticons saving a group of Autobots from a space station called New Polyhex. That station had been taken, reclaimed, and taken again several times over. Of course the Decepticons ultimately took it from us. We Autobots don't really have a claim on any sort of land of our own anymore. What we have is what native species like the humans give us."

"I've never been to New Polyhex," PR-35 commented softly, "But I have been to New Altihex space station. I killed many Autobots there. At the time I didn't even think about it. It was what Lord Megatron wanted, and that was good enough for me. I don't belong to Megatron anymore though. I belong to Optimus Prime. Do you think he will terminate me if he finds out about what I've done?"

Ratchet's spark wanted to break right then and there. This was Bluestreak, his sweet innocent sparkling, telling him that he killed Autobots in the name of Megatron. This was his own creation, and yet even Bluestreak himself believed he was only a piece of property; something that could be traded and owned.

"You don't belong to Optimus," Ratchet said firmly as he grabbed PR-35's helm in his servos and forced him to look at him.

"So...I belong to you?" PR-35 guessed nervously.

"No!" Ratchet snapped, and PR-35 flinched, "You don't belong to anyone! You are your own mech, and you are going to get a second chance to live the life you want to live; the life you _deserve_ to live! I'm sorry it took me so long to find you Bluestreak, but I won't lose you again. You're going to be okay."

"Um, sir?" PR-35 addressed him as _sir_ because _sire_ was still too familiar for him, "You say I can live any way I want. What if I still wanted to be a Decepticon? What if I wanted to return to the Nemesis? Would I be allowed to do that?"

"Bluestreak...It's complicated," Ratchet sighed; nearly choking up on the word _Bluestreak_ , "You can remain a Decepticon if you feel you could never be a loyal Autobot, but you would have to remain our prisoner if you did. We can't risk you revealing the location of our base. Megatron would destroy us if he had the chance."

"I understand," PR-35 replied sincerely, "However, that means I am still not free. I am only free if I choose to be an Autobot, but is it really a choice if the alternative is pain and confinement? These questions are too confusing for me, so please tell me something I can understand. Do I belong to you or Optimus Prime? Who am I loyal to above all else?"

"I can't tell you that," Ratchet replied softly; not liking the direction this conversation was going, "You have to decide for yourself what you value. What will you live for? What will you die for? What is worth pain and suffering and what isn't? I can't tell you that, son. This is something you need to learn on your own."

"But I'm old," PR-35 pointed out sadly, "It's too late for me to learn anything new. I was programmed from birth to serve my master. At one time that was Megatron. I need to know who my master is now."

"You are not a slave!" Ratchet shouted vehemently; desperately hoping to get through to his reprogrammed creation, "Your birth was not in Shockwave's lab! You were born in the Allspark, and you were raised in Praxus by me! I don't care if you have the body of a Vehicon, and Insecticon, or a scraplet! You deserve better than to be given orders by cruel masters and die unmourned! Bluestreak!" By now Ratchet's optics had started to fill with fluid again as he quieted down and said in a soft voice, "I know they hurt you, and I know you're confused, but I love you and you must not let them win. Just stay here for a while, and once you have all the knowledge you need to make an informed decision, then decide what you want to do with your life. Okay?"

PR-35 had been afraid at first of Ratchet's yelling, but once he realized Ratchet wasn't angry at him, but rather angry at Megatron, he began to listen. Ratchet was miserable at seeing PR-35's condition; the drone could tell from the way he cried as he spoke. This old medic no longer seemed like a scary unknowable torturer, but a forlorn sire that was desperately trying to reach out to the sparkling he lost. PR-35 slid off the berth and faced his supposed creator with an unreadable face plate and visor. It was moments like these PR-35 wished drones were built with more expressive facial features.

"Sir, am I free to choose the purpose I serve?" PR-35 asked apprehensively, "I don't really want to be a frontline soldier anymore."

"Then what do you want to do, son?" Ratchet asked gently as he looked PR-35 in his red visor.

"Well...if you have the time...I would like to be trained as a field medic," PR-35 replied sheepishly, "I have always admired those that can heal, but Vehicons are not allowed to hold such an important position since many believe we wouldn't have the free will to make difficult medical decisions. Would you have time to teach me a few basics, please?"

Ratchet's optics went wide with wonder at those words, and then he smiled with pride as he realized his youngest son just said he wanted to be just like him.

"Of course I can teach you," Ratchet said hoarsely; barely able to choke out the words as he was overwhelmed by emotion, "We can start whenever you want!"

"Thank you, sir," PR-35 replied gratefully, "May we start tomorrow? I'm pretty tired right now, and I want to grab some energon."

"Of course," Ratchet nodded as he stepped aside to let PR-35 pass, "We can start first thing in the morning. Maybe I can even convince Fowler to get you your own tools. Oh, this is going to be great!"

PR-35 laughed at his sire's enthusiasm as he walked away from the medbay and toward the energon dispenser.

 _Hm, maybe that's where I get my excitable nature..._ PR-35 thought as he grabbed a cube of energon. _Still, I wish he wouldn't call me Bluestreak. That name is weird, and I'm not sure I can get used to it. I guess I have to though, since that is my name now. I can't believe I have a sire..._

And that was when what happened finally hit him.

 _I have a sire!_ PR-35 suddenly realized with perfect clarity. _I have a family! That means I'm a real mech after all! This is great! Wait until the guys hear this-! Oh, wait. I can't tell them. I'm an Autobot now. Wait, if I'm real, then that means...Oh, no...My friends and colleagues are real too, and Megatron knows! That_ slag heap _! He's killing us on purpose!_

* * *

A few days passed since the revelation of PR-35's true origins. Most of the other 'Bots didn't know how to handle the new information, and the human kids hadn't showed up to the base until that day, so no one had bothered to inform them yet. Ratchet rarely left the medbay in these few days, not because he was sad, but because he was happily passing on his knowledge to his son; the next generation of Autobot medic (he hoped).

"So if there is calcification of the energon line, which scalpel do you use to remove it?" Ratchet asked as he showed PR-35 a display of small scalpels.

"Um...this one?" PR-35 guessed as he held up the third one in the row.

"Yes. Why do you use that one?" Ratchet tested him further.

"Uh...Because...The slight curve of the blade allows the sharp part to extract the calcium deposits while the blunt part of the blade touches the energon line in a way that doesn't cut into it further."

Ratchet nodded with an approving smile, and PR-35 pumped his fist in the air in victory; forgetting he was holding the scalpel until he cut his servo on it.

" _Ow_!" PR-35 exclaimed as a small pool of energon started to form on his servo, "I can fix that! I just need to...um...Band Aid?"

"That's a human thing," Ratchet reminded him longsufferingly, "Here, let me clean off the energon from around the wound. Now pay attention. Once the wound is mostly clean and the flow tapers off we...?"

"Um, solder it?" PR-35 guessed uncertainly.

"Correct. We solder it," Ratchet replied patiently as he turned one of his fingers into a soldering iron and began to apply the new metal that would cover the cut while it healed, "Now keep in mind that you can't always wait for the energon to stop flowing if a mech is leaking out too quickly. Ideally though, you don't want energon in your welds. Understand?"

"Yes sir," PR-35 nodded studiously, "You're very good at this. It doesn't even hurt."

"You'll learn the right touch eventually," Ratchet replied, "It comes with experience."

Once PR-35's servo was fixed they were going to get back to their lesson, but their workflow was interrupted by a high frequency message coming through on the main computer. Ratchet ran over to it to see what was going on, and everyone else gathered around in curiosity to see who was trying to contact them.

"It's an encoded message," Ratchet told them, "...From Starscream. It says: Have vital information for Autobot cause. Badly injured. Bring medical kit."

"We're not _going_ , are we?" Bulkhead remarked incredulously, "This is the third time he's done this!"

[Starscream's information has been reliable so far,] Bumblebee pointed out.

"Agreed," Optimus Prime affirmed, "Ratchet, see what Starscream knows, and bring someone with you in case he tries something devious."

"I'll go," Ironhide said gamely, "I've been lookin' for some action!" He exclaimed as he banged his fists together and his cannons charged up.

"No!" PR-35 suddenly exclaimed, "Please sir, let me go. My sire has been training me, and I would like an opportunity to see him work on a real patient. I promise I will protect him."

"Just what makes you think we'll trust you to look after him?" Ironhide growled, "You're a fraggin' Vehicon!"

"Yes, but I am also an excellent sharpshooter," PR-35 pointed out, "I mean, I know that probably isn't what you want to hear, but I can help. You guys have given me everything, including my sire. I won't betray you, I promise."

"I trust him, Ironhide," Ratchet said in defense of his son, "He won't hurt me. Come on Bluestreak, let's go."

As they walked toward the space bridge controls PR-35 let out an intake he didn't realize he'd been holding. Ironhide terrified him, but not as badly as being near such an unpredictable Autobot once would. He was also grateful no one saw through to his true motivations. While it was true he was learning from his sire, and it was true he would never betray Ratchet, that wasn't why he was going. He still didn't trust Ratchet to not harm his former commander, and he couldn't stand the thought of letting an Autobot kill Starscream while he was helpless.

* * *

Starscream was in an ice cave bleeding energon from his left leg and left hip joint. He had been shot down while running away with a stack of energon cubes from the Nemesis. Despite escaping Dreadwing, Knockout, and even Megatron himself, Starscream ultimately got shot down by a Vehicon drone. It wasn't just painful, it was humiliating.

A ground bridge opened, and Starscream sighed in relief thinking that the first thing he would see would be Ratchet. When a Vehicon trooper appeared out of the swirling green void, however, Starscream panicked.

"No, stay back!" Starscream shrieked as he aimed his arm cannon at the Vehicon; hoping to bluff his way out of this with his non-operational weapons, "I'm warning you! I'll do it!"

"Commander Starscream! Calm down!" The Vehicon shouted as he held up his servo and gun arm in surrender, "We're not going to hurt you."

Just then, Ratchet came out of the ground bridge, and Starscream went from terror to confusion in an instant.

"Ratchet, why is a Vehicon among your ranks?" Starscream asked almost tauntingly, "You didn't defect to the Decepticons, did you?"

Ratchet scowled, and PR-35 quickly said "No, sir. Megatron, um, lost a bet! Yeah! He lost a game of cards to Ratchet and used me as collateral! Pretty weird, huh?"

"Hmph," Starscream scoffed as he folded his arms over his cockpit, "Typical. Drones are such bad liars."

"Hey! It's not my fault! I'm only programmed to shoot mech-shaped targets!" PR-35 yelled defensively.

"Enough already!" Ratchet shouted to end the ridiculous exchange, "What is this information you have for us?"

"Oh, well um, you see..." Starscream stammered; suddenly at a loss for words.

" _What_?" Ratchet snapped impatiently.

"Well you see, I, um...lied," Starscream admitted guiltily, but then in a more dramatic tone said, "I was attacked trying to steal energon from Megatron's warship, and I didn't know where else to turn! I beg you not to turn your back on me! I am alone, helpless, and do what I must to survive! Don't leave me like this, please!"

Ratchet glared at the seeker for wasting his time. This Decepticon and his trine had committed more atrocities than Ratchet could recount. The hatred and disgust Ratchet felt for the seeker was intense, yet for the most part he allowed it to merely simmer in the background; knowing pure hatred wouldn't solve anything. Now though, this monster was within striking distance of his youngling, and he wasn't about to waste his time repairing him when he didn't even have information to offer.

"Let's go," Ratchet turned back toward the ground bridge; not even sparing a glance at the immobilized seeker.

"What!?" Starscream exclaimed in shock, "No! You can't leave me out here to bleed out my meager energon supply! Ratchet, have mercy!"

Ratchet just kept walking and ignored the pleas of the former air commander. He did, that is, until he realized PR-35 wasn't following him. Ratchet turned back to see the drone kneeling over Starscream's injury and examining it, most likely calculating which energon lines had been cut.

"I said _let's go!_ " Ratchet shouted in frustration.

"I'm not leaving him!" PR-35 snapped defiantly, "He might be nothing but a vagabond now, but he was my commander once, and he was a good one! I'm going to do whatever I can to save him."

" _He_ was a good commander?" Ratchet asked skeptically, "That pompous lying murderous coward was a good commander?"

"Yes, he was," PR-35 replied as he took a small med kit out of subspace, "Starscream gave promotions, did you know that? None of the other commander did that. He also didn't kill us for fun, or kill officers like Breakdown for that matter. He also built the Eradicons in his image; giving them a certain dignity not seen in a drone in centuries."

"Well, the color scheme was mine," Starscream recalled fondly, "I modeled the bodies off my deceased wingmates; Skywarp and Thundercracker."

Ratchet growled low at the mention of those names, and PR-35 actually gulped when he looked up to see the fiery hatred in Ratchet's optics. He had to remind himself that the hatred was for Starscream, not for him, as he started to fuse energon lines shut and clean the wounds before welding. He took out strips of metal to patch up Starscream's leg and hip joint, but he noticed when he started welding that Starscream grunted and winced in pain. Apparently he wasn't as good at this as Ratchet.

Much to PR-35's relief Ratchet finally bent down to help the drone patch up Starscream. He supposed the old medic's coding had finally kicked in. Starscream had lost a lot of energon, however, and while they were welding him back together he passed out.

"Oh dear, he's going to need med grade energon," PR-35 observed, "Do you have any, sir?"

Ratchet grunted in protest but pulled an IV tube and a cube of medical grade energon from his subspace anyway. Ratchet hooked up the IV while PR-35 continued to patch wounds and clean dried energon off the unconscious seeker's frame.

"Sir? I hope I'm not prying too much, but why didn't you want to help Commander Starscream?" PR-35 asked apprehensively.

"I don't understand why anyone _would_ want to help him," Ratchet shot back, "You have no idea how much he's taken away from me; taken away from you! His trine was not only responsible for the total destruction of Praxus and the slaughter of its people, but they were also the ones heading the attack on New Polyhex when Prowl was killed. Starscream doesn't deserve our pity, or the precious supply of energon we're giving him now. He's a monster."

"So...Starscream is the reason I became a drone?" PR-35 asked in a hushed tone of voice.

"More or less," Ratchet hissed angrily as he looked down at his unworthy patient.

"Could Prowl be a drone, too?" PR-35 asked hopefully, "I mean, you thought I was dead, but I'm not. Maybe Prowl is a drone somewhere too, and maybe he wasn't killed in action yet! Maybe..."

"No," Ratchet replied bitterly, "Prowl's body was recovered floating through space. Your body was never found."

PR-35 shifted nervously as he applied the last weld. It was strange and kind of unnerving to hear Ratchet talk about finding (or not finding) his body. _His body_...he still couldn't think of himself as a missing and presumably dead sparkling, and yet that was the reality Ratchet dealt with every orn. He imagined the old medic frantically asking authorities if Bluestreak had been recovered, or digging through the rubble himself in search of his youngest creation. It made PR-35 feel bad for his sire, and it made him want to try harder to be the son Ratchet had missed out on for so long. He only wished he could give him Prowl back too.


	14. Believe Me

_Author's Notes: Hi guys! Well, I'm finally updating a fic for once. My schedule has been busy so I haven't had a lot of time for fics, but hopefully I can get back on a decent writing schedule again soon. Funny story about this chapter...I actually finished it a few days ago, but I got distracted by something and forgot to post it. So I'm late, but better late than never I suppose ^_^'_

 _I hope you guys enjoy this story, and please don't forget to leave a review. I love hearing from you guys, and sometimes I need to be reminded of which fics people are actually reading :)_

* * *

Chapter 14

Believe Me

VS-5001 had 5 more dreams in the past orn. It seemed like he couldn't go into recharge anymore without another nightmare invading his processor. They were becoming more vivid, clearer, and angrier every time he tried to recharge, and he realized now the sickness that was infecting the others. This was serious, and it was affecting work performance.

He went into the medbay to see Knockout examining one of his Eradicon troops. The drone felt a pang of sympathy for his subordinate as he watched him squirm under the watchful optic of the self-absorbed medic.

"I'm telling you Doctor, my sparkling is still out there!" The Eradicon cried out, "I saw it! My sparkling ran away from the soldiers! He's still out there! Please let me go back to Cybertron to look for him! _Please_!"

Knockout sighed audibly and then hooked the Vehicon up to a chord that kept it under sedation. VS-5001 watched unflinchingly as Knockout ripped out several wires from the Vehicon's helm and crushed its processor in his perfectly polished servo. Knockout then threw the dead frame into a pile of other dead frames, and VS-5001 just knew that the unfortunate drone had not been the first to come in raving about their dreams.

Knockout then swiftly turned to VS-5001 and glared at him; causing the Eradicon to shift slightly on his pedes.

"Well, what do you want?" Knockout snapped irritably as he put his servo on his hip and swayed indignantly.

"I believe I know why so many Vehicons and Eradicons are currently broken, sir," VS-5001 replied without showing fear, "The air on earth is eroding their secondary processor chips. I do not claim to understand the specifics of the chip's purpose, but unless they can be repaired the drones will continue to go insane."

VS-5001 of course neglected to mention his own haunting dreams. It was too late for him, he knew that, but he would not allow himself to deactivate until the plague on his brethren was contained. Until then, he would pretend he was fine and not tell anyone he was being tormented by images of spilled energon and glowing red optics boring into his nonexistent spark.

"That's impossible," Knockout contradicted him, "Those chips are meant to last forever."

"Under normal circumstances I'm certain they would, sir," VS-5001 replied respectfully, though not backing down in his argument, "Unfortunately the planet's atmosphere is detrimental to the metals contained in the chips. Until this can be fixed I highly recommend pulling our mining team from earth and keeping all drones aboard the Nemesis."

"And you want _me_ to give that recommendation to Lord Megatron?" Knockout asked in a tone that just screamed _are you kidding_?, "Forget it. My medical opinions are not swayed by military equipment. I suggest you get back to work and leave the thinking to those of us with actual processors. Now, get out."

"Yes, sir," VS-5001 replied formally before turning and leaving.

VS-5001 didn't understand Knockout's attitude. He had never questioned the medic before, it was never his place to do so, but he had always assumed that Knockout would at least care about an outbreak that could cripple their army. Knockout hadn't quite been the same since Breakdown died; that much anyone could see. VS-5001 needed to cure his fellow drones before Knockout stripped each and every one of them for parts.

He needed a plan, but there was no orthodox way to fix this. His job was to coordinate military drones and nothing else. He could do his job while insane as long as he knew he was insane, but many of the others weren't so lucky. They had already lost so many to the processor madness, and he was the only one that seemed to care about curing them.

His processor told him to go back to work and forget about this, but there was another less practical part of him that said the answer could be found in his dreams. One mech featured prominently in his nightmares, and perhaps that one mech could yet save them. It was a foolish thought to be sure, but VS-5001 had no one left to count on but himself. His insanity might as well become his driving force.

The drab grey Eradicon left the safety of his post and stood out on the hangar overlooking the clouds. The expanse of earth's blue skies seemed endless, and the ground wasn't even visible due to the altitude and the cloud cover. VS-5001 stood there a moment longer, and then plunged into the unknown; transforming into his jet mode to meet his insanity head-on. He would find the figure of his nightmares and make him fix this. He would find their former commander; Starscream.

* * *

Relics from Iacon. PR-35 had vaguely heard about such things when going over mission reports on the Nemesis, but to actually know that such things were on earth was insane. There were five decoded Iacon relic locations, and teams of two would be sent out to most of them to collect the valuable objects. Only Optimus Prime would go on his mission alone since he was the most powerful member of the team.

PR-35 at first was happy that he was even being trusted with such a secret. Ratchet of course vouched for him, and most of the team seemed okay with him being present at the meeting to discuss the ancient artifacts. What he wasn't expecting however was to be chosen for a team to collect a relic.

He wanted to go with Ratchet, but Ratchet had been assigned to go with Wheeljack instead. PR-35 hadn't really interacted much with the former Wrecker; mostly because Wreckers gave him the creeps. Because of this PR-35 was grateful to not have to go with Wheeljack. Bumblebee was partnered with Arcee, and Bulkhead and partnered up with Ironhide. That just left PR-35 with...

"Me!?" Chromia shouted incredulously, "Why do I have to babysit the 'Con?"

" _Former_ 'Con!" PR-35 pouted defensively, "Besides, you're sure to come back alive if I go with you. Vehicons always get shot down first."

"Don't talk like that, Bluestreak," Ratchet scolded him, "You're going to be alright."

"Yes, sir," PR-35 replied; still not too keen on the name Bluestreak but not willing to argue about it.

Each team was given a location to go to. Optimus got the hardest assignment (in the Arctic), Bulkhead and Ironhide were going to an active volcano, Arcee and Bumblebee were taking two of the humans to New York City, Ratchet and Wheeljack were going to someplace near the Rocky Mountains, and PR-35 and Chromia were going to one of the smaller Hawaiian islands.

"Seriously, I get stuck climbin' a volcano with this lugnut," Ironhide exclaimed to Chromia as he gestured to Bulkhead, "And you're goin' on a tropical vacation with another mech?"

"I'm already jealous, you don't have to rub it in," Chromia replied teasingly, "Have fun on your adventure, boys."

"You too, sweet spark," Ironhide said affectionately to his mate, and then turned to the Vehicon and added, "And you keep your hand and your gun to yerself."

"Um...Is he afraid of me shooting you or flirting with you?" PR-35 whispered to Chromia.

"Both," Chromia deadpanned, "Let's just get this mission over with."

Raf used his computer to activate the ground bridges to each assignment, and each team of two went to their respective locations.

PR-35 felt blinded by the sun when he exited the ground bridge. It was only mid-morning in Hawaii, but PR-35 wasn't used to the sun since he either lived aboard the dark confines of the Nemesis or more recently underground in the Autobot base. Still, once he adjusted his visual input the water and sand was quite a stunning sight to behold.

"This way," Chromia ordered after checking her scanners, "Hurry up!"

PR-35 quickly followed after the blue femme as she followed the signal of the as yet unknown relic. PR-35 was curious as to whether it would be an Autobot artifact that held secrets to the mysterious past of former Primes, or if perhaps it could be a Decepticon WMD that would give the Autobots an advantage over their most hated enemies.

PR-35 didn't know which outcome he wanted, actually. The Autobots were his team now, and he should want them to win. His sire was an Autobot, and the Autobots tolerated him every bit as much as the Decepticons had. Megatron was revealed to be a liar and a ghoulish reaper of sparks. PR-35 should have no questions left in his processor about who to love and trust, yet there was a sliver of doubt. What if the whole long-lost sparkling story was just an act to gain his loyalty? What if Ratchet decided he didn't want a Vehicon for a son and disassembled him? What if there were other good Decepticon officers like Breakdown still out there? He just wanted someone to give him simple answers so he could get back to his simple life.

"Hey Vehicon, over here!" Chromia motioned for him by an old abandoned shack, "The signal's comin' from inside."

PR-35 obeyed and went over to where she was, but he wasn't exactly eager to do so. Chromia and her mate rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. PR-35 didn't mind that she refused to call him Bluestreak, but she also refused to remember his serial number. She just called him drone or Vehicon; never PR-35. Those sorts of slights never bothered him when he was among the Decepticons, but for some reason he really took offense to it when the Autobots treated him that way. Even he didn't understand why.

The mechs were too big to fit inside the tiny straw and wood structure, but after a quick scan Chromia revealed there was no one inside and clearly there hadn't been for years, so she ripped the roof off the hut and peered inside.

PR-35 noticed that Chromia's optics swirled around the same way Arcee's did when she was concentrating on something. She also had the faintest hint of pink in her blue optics just like her daughter. PR-35 couldn't help but wonder if he had looked a lot like Ratchet when he was a sparkling.

Chromia reached into the hut and pulled out what had to be the ugliest mask PR-35 had ever seen. It had angry looking optic-holes, a snarling mouth with a nozzle in the middle, and it was a dull gunmetal grey. PR-35 was a little freaked out by the thing, but he didn't let it show so the tough femme wouldn't think he was a weakling. She turned it this way and that, but there was no angle that could make that hideous mask look good.

"What is that thing?" PR-35 finally worked up the courage to ask.

"This _thing_ as you called it is the mask of Zeta Prime," Chromia replied as she stared critically at the artifact, "You're probably too young to remember this, I mean if you could remember things, but Zeta Prime was one of the most controversial mechs to ever hold the position of Prime. He slaughtered many citizens of Nuon when they criticized his regime by saying he didn't have the Matrix and therefore wasn't a true Prime. He redefined functionalism in such a way that the working class became little better than slaves, and killed anyone who dared to oppose him."

"Did he wear that ugly mask while doing it?" PR-35 asked bluntly, "Seriously, he'd have a be a psychopath to think that mask looks fashionable."

"It's not for fashion, you little punk," Chromia smirked despite herself, "It's a weapon. Here, step back and I'll show you how it works."

PR-35 stepped backward away from Chromia until his pedes touched the ocean waves. He sunk a little in the sand, but he didn't mind. He just didn't want to crowd Scary Blue Femme Senior while she held a deadly weapon in her servos.

Chromia put the mask on and turned a dial on the side of the ghastly headgear. She turned toward a tree and pushed a button to activate the weapon. The nozzle on the mask spewed a noxious smelling green gas straight toward the tree, and the palm immediately began to wilt and break apart! When Chromia was done there was nothing left of the tree except for a few pieces of dried leaf matter where there had once been a tall and proud palm tree.

"Whoa! What the pit was that!?" PR-35 exclaimed when she took the mask off.

"The mask turns oxygen into concentrated gaseous tox-en," Chromia explained, "This was one reason it took so long to depose Zeta Prime. By the time you came along though Zeta Prime was history and Sentinel Prime was ruling in his place. He didn't really do much better, but at least he wasn't wearing this gas mask while he flushed Cybertron down the crapper."

"What's a crapper?" PR-35 asked innocently.

"Ask the humans when we get back. You'll get a real kick out of it," Chromia chuckled, "I'm gonna call for a ground bridge now. You did good on your first-"

Before Chromia could finish her sentence however, shots were fired near them that barely missed, and they both turned around to see three Vehicons running right for them! They both took cover behind a cluster of trees with the Vehicons in hot pursuit. Chromia activated her cannon and was about to shoot the one in the center straight in the spark, but PR-35 pushed her cannon away as she fired, and her shot went harmlessly up in the air.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chromia barked at PR-35, "They're the enemy!"

"Didn't you hear Prime?" PR-35 shouted back, "Those guys used to be mechs just like us! Well, you, um, well technically you're not- oh, never mind! Don't kill them!"

"Freeze!" The head Vehicon shouted as the three aimed their blasters at Chromia and PR-35, "Whoa wait, PR-35? Is that you? You're alive?"

"Um, yes," PR-35 replied uncertainly, "It's been a while, NU-457. You know, we were just talking about Nuon. Turns out the Prime's have always been jerks to your home city-state."

"Not helping," Chromia hissed at him.

"Why are you with this Autobot? We thought you were deactivated," NU-457 asked critically.

"Well, to make a long story short, I think the Autobots adopted me," PR-35 tried to explain.

"You mean you were reprogrammed as a pet?" NU-457 asked with equal parts concern and disgust.

"No, but Ratchet thinks I'm his son," PR-35 told him, "Oh, in case you don't remember who Ratchet is, he's the guy that melted ICN-8675's face with a blowtorch."

"Ahh!" The Vehicon to the right of NU-457 squealed, "You've been captured by the Doctor of Doom?"

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," PR-35 assured him, "Ratchet is actually a very good sire. He's teaching me how to be a medic."

"Drones do not practice medicine," NU-457 stated firmly, "We are not mechs, and only mechs may become medical assistants. You are Decepticon property, and you need to come back with us at once."

"That's Zeta Prime talk!" PR-35 snapped defiantly.

"Um...Who is Zeta Prime?" NU-457 asked uncomprehendingly.

"He was a very bad Prime," PR-35 explained, "He's the reason Autobots used to be bad, and he turned mechs and femmes into slaves. He also killed a bunch of mechs from Nuon, which is where you were built if I remember your serial number correctly. Listen guys, we found a dangerous relic, and you've been standing here like idiots. If Chromia wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. We don't have to fight. We don't have to be slaves and property. We can be free and discover what our dreams mean. Optimus took me in. He might take you in too."

"The Prime wants Vehicon troops for himself?" The Vehicon to the left asked curiously.

"Dreams?" The one on the right asked, "Have you been going crazy too?"

"I'm not crazy! My father is an Autobot medic!" PR-35 shouted, and the other Vehicons stared at him skeptically.

"NU-457," The one on the right addressed its leader, "We can't take PR-35 back with us. He's the oldest living Vehicon. If Knockout gets a hold of him, he'll scrap him for parts just like all the others. We've gotta let him go."

"You're talking about treason!" NU-457 exclaimed angrily, "We are Megatron's loyal servants! Just because PR-35 has gone senile doesn't mean we should give up on our duty to reclaim him. He's just equipment, same as us."

"We may be equipment," The Vehicon on the left interjected, "But I'm scared. I've had dreams lately, bad ones. Dreamers get dissected. I don't want to die, even if I am defective. Maybe if the Autobots are taking shoddy equipment, I should go with them. We could all go and start a new life. I'd rather be Optimus Prime's butler than a pile of reject parts on the medbay floor."

"That's the spirit!" PR-35 cheered.

"Hey drone, I just got a comm from Fowler!" Chromia shouted gruffly, "Somethin' bad's happened at the volcano! He cut me off...We've gotta get back to base! It could be somethin' wrong with Ironhide!"

"Okay guys," PR-35 addressed the drones, "That ground bridge is opening, and it leads to a life without the Decepticons. How many of you are willing to grab your chance at freedom and knowledge?"

The three drones looked at each other with confusion and uncertainty.

"I will never betray Megatron," NU-457 said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

The one on the right saw how his superior reacted, and fearfully nodded his agreement. The one on the left, however, kept looking at PR-35 and Chromia.

"I'm in," The left one finally said, much to the shock of his brethren, "I don't want to die for my dreams. If the Prime wants defective merchandise, then I'm all his."

"No, you're not," PR-35 said wistfully as he took the other Vehicon by the shoulders, "So, what's your serial number, comrade?"

"VS-5000."


	15. Out Cold

_Author's Notes: I want to thank **Melral CT-3718** for helping me come up with that funny part involving Bumblebee (you guys will know it when you see it). Anyway, a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, but I must admit that nothing feels complete here. This chapter pretty much shows the beginnings of story arcs that are important to the plot. Also, I did not forget the miner couple subplot, but they don't appear in this chapter. They will come back later though. Anyway, thank you for reading and/or reviewing and I hope you are enjoying this story so far :)_

* * *

Chapter 15

Out Cold

Chromia, PR-35, and VS-5000 drove through the space bridge at record speeds, though for different reasons. Chromia drove quickly to see if Ironhide was alright. The Vehicons drove quickly to keep up with the worried femme.

When they made it back to base everything was utter chaos. Ratchet was frantically working on Bulkhead on the ground while Optimus lifted Ironhide onto a berth. Both of the former Wreckers were unconscious, and judging from everyone's reactions they could be dying before their very optics.

" _Ironhide_!" Chromia screamed as she rushed over to where her sparkmate lay unmoving, "Prime, what happened? Who did this to my mech?"

"They have both suffered tox-en poisoning and were attacked by Insecticons," Optimus explained as gently as he could without holding back.

"Bluestreak! Go to the medbay! I need you to stabilize Ironhide now!" Ratchet demanded as he shocked Bulkhead's systems for probably the tenth time.

"On it!" PR-35 shouted as he rushed to the medbay toward his patient.

VS-5000, upon seeing PR-35 heading toward the large black unconscious Autobot, decided to follow him.

"Whoa, so it's all true?" VS-5000 whispered once they were away from the other Autobots, "They really let you perform surgery?"

"This is my first real patient," PR-35 replied quickly as he prepared a cleansing fluid using various chemicals Ratchet had taught him about, "Ratchet doesn't have any help, so he has nothing to lose by training me."

"Yeah, nothing to lose but an Autobot," VS-5000 pointed out, "I can't believe how much they trust you. You've only been gone from the Nemesis for a couple weeks, if that long! This is so bizarre."

"I know. I think so too," PR-35 admitted, "However, I won't do anything to betray them, and it isn't just my fear talking anymore. I know something could go wrong but for right now...I have a home, I have a purpose, and I have someone in my life that cares about me. I know I'm probably too old to care about my sire's approval, but I do care. I want this life, and I'll be whatever they need me to be to keep it...even if it means going by that stupid name."

"I dunno, I think the name Bluestreak is kinda cool," VS-5000 shrugged, "So uh...You need any help stabilizing the big guy?"

"No offense VS-5000, but I've seen you in simulation training," PR-35 replied cheekily, "You bump into walls and you break other drones' tools. If you don't mind, please leave the medbay so I can work."

"Eh, fine by me," VS-5000 shrugged again, "I've got some networking to do anyway."

As VS-5000 left the medbay Ratchet rushed past with Chromia carrying Bulkhead. As soon as she could she rushed over to where PR-35 was working on Ironhide. She alternated between concerned longing looks down at her mate and quick suspicious glances at the Vehicon apprentice. PR-35 was nervous, but he had a job to do. He knew that if Ironhide died then he would probably die as well; Chromia would see to that.

Meanwhile, outside the medbay VS-5000 took a look around at the busy control room of the base. He couldn't believe he was really inside the Autobot's secret headquarters. He knew that this could be his best chance to relay the information to Megatron and be a hero among the troops. He also knew however that as a Vehicon he would still be expendable to his superiors no matter how many Autobot bases he tore down and burned to the ground on their behalf.

 _Bases_. Burning bases were often a big part of VS-5000's dreams. Sometimes he would be running from an enemy destroying a base, and sometimes he would be the one burning a base to the ground. Hunter and hunted, and the sneakiest always won the game. These dreams were bad, but somehow they weren't even the worst of his nightmares. No, that would go to that dream he had where he was at a party and had too much high grade, only to enter a berth room to throw up and catch two members of his unit interfacing. Yeah, there wasn't enough processor-wiping technology in the _universe_ to get rid of that one.

While he was still unnoticed he took inventory of those present in the room. He saw two humans, both young males. They looked like fun. Most Decepticons considered organics nothing but filthy vermin, but VS-5000 was curious about them. Not in a peace and love sort of way like an Autobot, but more in a _I-wonder-if-I-should-touch-it_ sort of way. He also saw Arcee and Bumblebee talking quietly to each other, and he had to suppress a shudder.

 _Scrap, two of the deadliest Autobots in one room!_ VS-5000 thought to himself. _Stupid yellow troublemaker. He killed Skyquake, not to mention countless others. It's weird to see him acting so calm right now. He doesn't even look that dangerous up close, but I know he's practically a one-Bot plague! Heh heh, side effects of a Bumblebee encounter include anxiety, nausea, decapitation, a feeling of approaching doom, spark explosion, headache, diarrhea, erectile dysfunction, dismemberment, and death. Please consult your nearest Decepticon officer before attempting to attack Bumblebee. Hah hah! Medical humor...I've gotta tell PR-35 that one!_

VS-5000 was pulled out of his thoughts when he finally saw the one Autobot he had actually been looking for: Optimus Prime. This was his chance! If he was going to get out of Megatron's control, then he would need a new master. If he could prove to the Prime that he was indispensable then he would be protected and appreciated by the Autobots forever. Yes, this could work. He had a plan.

Optimus was worried about Bulkhead, Ironhide, Miko, Wheeljack, Arcee, and Chromia. They had the potential to lose two Autobots, and he had sworn to himself that he would not lose another comrade to Megatron's tyranny. Cliffjumper dying had lowered morale for everyone involved, and the near death of Rafael at Megatron's servo a mere two months prior was still fresh on everyone's processors. Then they learned the potential conspiracy involving the Vehicons. So many innocent sparks corrupted and snuffed. He had to find some way to stop Megatron once and for all.

"Excuse me, Optimus Prime sir?"

"Huh? Oh, I did not see you there Bluestreak," Optimus greeted the Vehicon apologetically, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm not Bluestreak, I'm VS-5000, and this is actually about what I can do for you," VS-5000 introduced himself in a way he hoped was confident and friendly, "Sir, this is your lucky orn! I have defected to the Autobots, and now I am here to serve as your personal butler!"

"Um, I'm sorry, but I don't need a butler," Optimus replied politely.

"You don't have a choice," VS-5000 quickly retorted, "So, can I get you a cube of energon sir?"

"Listen, I am grateful that you have decided to leave Megatron," Optimus replied patiently, "However, this is not the best time for us to have this conversation."

"I understand sir," VS-5000 nodded dutifully, "No one feels like talking without a refreshing beverage. So, just tell me where the energon cubes are kept and I'll get you one right away."

"You're not very good at taking orders, are you?" Optimus deadpanned.

"Oh I'm the best at taking orders sir, but you haven't given any," VS-5000 countered, "Come on, test me! I'm great at this! I'm a newer model than PR-35, so my gun can transform into a hand. You've gotta give me a chance, Master! I'm practically a collector's item! I'm the last Vehicon built in Vos before they switched over to Eradicons. Tell me that's not worth something to you! No wait, don't tell me that!"

"Alright, you want an order?" Optimus asked slowly, and the Vehicon nodded vigorously, "Alright then, your first order is to not call me _master_ again. You may call me Prime, Optimus, or sir. Understand?"

"Yes, my liege!" VS-5000 declared, and at Optimus's withering look added, "Hey, you didn't say I couldn't call you my liege."

"Bumblebee!" Optimus called out, and the scout approached immediately, "Bumblebee, this new Vehicon has defected from the Decepticons. Please set him up with a berth in the same room as PR-35. I'm sorry young Vehicon, but we do not have any more spare rooms."

"That's okay sir, I shared a room with 24 other drones back on the Nemesis," VS-5000 replied cheerfully, but then with a worried expression asked, "Um, incidentally, does Bumblebee read minds? I've thought some things I really wouldn't wanna have to explain."

Bumblebee looked at Optimus with a puzzled expression, and the Prime's own face plates echoed that confusion. With no answers forthcoming however Bumblebee just shrugged it off and led their newest drone to his room.

* * *

VS-5001 had flown for hours before he detected the harbinger. This ship was well concealed and its location was not documented in the Decepticon database. It was a wonder VS-5001 found it at all, but he knew he needed to be here. He knew Starscream would be here, and for whatever reason he felt that this rogue 'Con might be the only one left who would listen to him.

The drone landed as quietly as he could. He didn't want to sneak up on his former commander, but he also didn't want to announce himself before he found cover in case of an attack from the unstable seeker.

VS-5001 walked carefully inside the ship. It wasn't very big, but there were many interesting things to be found. He saw scattered remains of what looked to be protoforms, claw marks on the walls, and faint glowing lights in the distance of the hallway. VS-5001 could feel the spark in his chassis thrumming, but he would not give up now. He had come too far and risked too much to not see his madness through to completion.

The room with the lights had a clear trophy case with a new addition recently placed inside. It looked to be some sort of portable armor, if VS-5001 guessed correctly. He looked all around the room, and down on the floor was where he saw Starscream; passed out cold.

The Eradicon scanned the stasis-locked seeker and found that his energon was at a merely 10%. He was starving to death, and at this rate it wouldn't take long for him to terminate.

VS-5001 didn't have any energon in his subspace, but he did have energon flowing through his fuel lines. If he was going to save Starscream, he would need to connect their fuel lines together to share his energon with the rogue. It would probably deplete VS-5001, but he knew a mech's life was worth far more than his own.

* * *

The sky was so chilly on this overcast morning. Starscream couldn't remember what planet this sky was from, but he knew he hadn't been here in a very long time. Below him was a turquoise colored jungle and above him were dusty pink clouds against a purple sky. The last time he had been here-

"Hey Screamer! Watch out for that rock!" Skywarp shouted from his left.

""Yah!" Starscream yelped as he overcorrected and crashed into a collection of stringy vines.

 _Oh yeah._ The last time he had flown through these skies had been with Skywarp and Thundercracker. He really missed them sometimes, but that was all in the past. He had survived just fine without them and even became Lord Megatron's second in command. He didn't need them.

"You need some help to get out of those vines?" Thundercracker asked as he flew close to where Starscream was tangled up.

"No, I don't need you," Starscream replied in a strangely hollow tone of voice, "I've been doing fine since you died. By the way, I sold your favorite vase, the one with the red flower painted on the front. It clashes with the decor, not to mention universal domination."

"Whatever you say Starscream," Thundercracker said in a patronizing tone as he cut away the vines from his trine brother.

"Next time you should watch where you fly," Skywarp chided him, "You could fall. In fact, you could fall so far down that you'll never get back up again. Of course, you already know that, don't you Screamer?"

Starscream divined that Skywarp wasn't actually talking about flying. No, his dead trine brother was talking about Starscream's foolish decision to leave the Decepticons and go rogue. He fell. He fell from grace, he fell to the lowest position on the Decepticon food chain, and he was constantly starving and humiliated. He couldn't even convince the Autobots to grant him asylum. He had nothing. He didn't even have his trine.

When Starscream looked around him the jungle was gone, his trine was gone, everything was gone. He could see blackness and nothing else, not even the ground beneath his feet. Everything was gone. This was it. He would forever be condemned to this blackness; to the utter nothingness within his own spark.

* * *

Starscream awoke feeling weak but slightly warmer than he had when he went into stasis lock. He groaned and rubbed his helm, only to notice the tube sticking out of his arm. He looked at the tube, but it was no longer connected to anything. Was he in the medbay on the Nemesis? No, this still looked like the Harbinger. Then how did he get medical attention he never asked for?

Suddenly he heard pede steps entering the room, and Starscream saw that it was an Eradicon carrying a tray with various tools and implements. Starscream knew what this was about...

" _Freeze_!" Starscream shouted as he aimed his missile launcher at the Eradicon, "You're not taking me back to Megatron! I won't go and you can't make me!"

"I don't intend to take you back to our master," VS-5001 replied stoically, "I am here to ask you to aid the Decepticon cause one more time, not as a warrior but as a scientist."

"Oh? Did Megatron send you?" Starscream asked suspiciously.

"No sir, Lord Megatron does not even know I am here," VS-5001 informed him, "I know this is sudden, and that I am out of line by even approaching you now, but the Decepticon military fleet is dwindling and we need your help. You might be the only one left that can get the Decepticons back on track, and I can only hope that you are reasonable enough to at least attempt to help us."

"I see. So you believe I would be a better leader than Megatron," Starscream posited; looking for any opportunity to stroke his own ego.

"This does not require leadership. This situation requires intellect and experimentation," VS-5001 corrected him, "To put it bluntly, the Vehicons and Eradicons are all going crazy. I have figured out the problem, but I cannot get the medic to devise a solution."

"Crazy huh? What kind of crazy?" Starscream asked; curiosity piqued.

"Well sir, the drones are dreaming and gradually believing they are alive," VS-5001 explained, "The problem is a corroding of our secondary processor chips due to the atmosphere on the planet. We need new chips or the old ones repaired, but Knockout refuses to do anything more than kill perfectly viable drones and scrap them for spare parts."

By this point VS-5001 had gone from placid and obedient to trying to hold back his simmering anger at the incompetent medic. VS-5001 was responsible for the Eradicon forces, and many of his troops were being killed for no reason! It didn't even serve the Decepticon cause! All it did was fill the medbay with dead frames.

"The secondary chips, you say?" Starscream asked for clarification, "Tell me drone, are you experiencing any...unusual symptoms?"

VS-5001 knew that by confessing his weakness to Starscream he was sealing his own doom, yet he could not stop himself. This was a mech that might be able to save the rest of his brethren, and he had to try anything for them; even if he was killed for his deficiency.

"Yes sir, I have experienced dreams," VS-5001 replied solemnly, "Many involve an incident at a space station. The dream is always a little different each time, but each time there is always a black and white Praxian Autobot. I do not believe the content of my dream is important, however. I know what I am and I will not defy my protocol. My processor is yours to do with as you see fit, but I implore you to find a cure for the chip malfunction. Megatron needs those drones, and Knockout is an unfit surgeon that is not even good enough to file your claws."

That final statement earned a crooked smirk from Starscream. VS-5001 wasn't really that devoted to Starscream, but he understood the former commander's weakness for flattery. He needed Starscream to say yes, and he would do whatever it took to restore what was left of his fellow Eradicons.

Starscream, however, already knew exactly what was going on. Only a select few Decepticons including Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave knew about the true nature of the Vehicon project. Starscream knew that the drones were made from the captives taken from Autobot and Neutral territories and that the chips were used to suppress memories of their former lives. If this Eradicon remembered Prowl so clearly then there was only one explanation that Starscream could see. This Eradicon _was_ the late Autobot Prowl.

Starscream smiled a conniving smile at VS-5001 and said in a silken voice "Of course I'll help you, my loyal Eradicon soldier. I know just what to do to get you and every other Vehicon back to normal."


	16. Scary Medic

_Author's Notes: I...don't know what I should say about this chapter. It's a weird and funny chapter mostly, but it has some angst too. I guess it's mostly a languid chapter to allow the characters to breathe before the intense part of the story comes back. I enjoyed writing it, and hopefully you guys enjoy reading it :)_

* * *

Chapter 16

Scary Medic

It took over a week before Bulkhead and Ironhide regained consciousness. PR-35 had learned while listening in on the humans that Miko and Wheeljack had hunted down the Insecticon that did this to the Wreckers and killed him. What was even more shocking was that Miko was the one that pulled the trigger. PR-35 knew humans were more than just organics, and now he had solid proof of their unnerving wit and aggression. What surprised PR-35 was that rather than be afraid of Miko's ability to kill, VS-5000 seemed to want to hang around her more because of it.

Miko pushed Bulkhead hard in his recovery, and in fact seemed like a different person than the one PR-35 had met when he first came to their base. She was bossier, and there seemed to be a darkness behind her liquid optics that wasn't there before. PR-35 asked Ratchet what that darkness meant, and Ratchet said it was what happened the first time someone took a life.

Now that PR-35 knew that was the reason, he could actually see it behind the optics of every Autobot he encountered. He wondered if there was such a thing as an innocent Cybertronian anymore, and the potential answers bothered him. Did he look like that the first time he killed? He didn't even remember the first time, and was sure he felt nothing. He was a Vehicon. Killing Autobots was his job. Yet now the very thought of it made him sick. What had changed?

He tried to refocus himself away from those foreboding thoughts. The girl would be okay. After all, the Autobots continued to survive despite their guilt, and he was also still alive despite the recent awakening of his processor. The past was the past, and he couldn't change it. All he could do was his job, which at the moment he wasn't doing because he was too busy thinking.

 _Focus, glitch head!_ PR-35 chastised himself in his mind. _This isn't hard! It's just a computer! Oh pit, did my servo slip? Did my sire see that? Is he looking at me!? Please tell me he isn't-! Oh good, he isn't looking at me. Phew, that was close. Okay, focus...now_!

The job he was supposed to be focusing on was the setup of the medical computer for VS-5000's spark scan. He and Ratchet had been preparing the medbay all morning to ensure everything was calm and comfortable so the new Vehicon wouldn't freak out. Now all they needed was for Optimus to lure the drone to the medbay. That shouldn't be too hard, considering the Vehicon refused to leave him alone.

A few minutes later Optimus came into the room with an eager VS-5000 trailing behind him like a playful puppy. VS-5000 had a sponge in one servo and a bucket of soapy water in the other, and he was practically skipping as he entered the room.

"Okay sir, where's the berth?" VS-5000 asked Ratchet as soon as he saw him.

"Um...Do I even want to ask?" Ratchet deadpanned to Optimus.

"I ordered him to clean the med berths," Optimus replied almost sheepishly, "It was the only excuse I could think of to bring him here."

" _Excuse_?" VS-5000 squeaked, "Wait, you mean I'm going to be salvaged after all? _No_! You _can't_! The berths aren't even _clean_ yet!"

"Hey, calm down buddy!" PR-35 exclaimed placatingly, "No one is going to scrap you. We just want to scan your spark."

"No way! You'll never take me alive!" VS-5000 screamed.

VS-5000 then dumped his bucket of soapy water onto the computer console, and the entire thing began to spark as systems malfunctioned.

"VS, I needed that!" Ratchet yelled belligerently at the drone, "Great, this'll take all orn to fix!"

"VS-5000, you shouldn't have done that," PR-35 sighed, "We need that scanner to find out who you really are."

"No you don't! They don't want me! Can't you see? Optimus Prime is annoyed by me, and the others are afraid of me. They want me deactivated!" VS-5000 raved, "I might not be the smartest drone to ever exist, hence the term _drone_ , but I'm not stupid either. They only wanted you because you can do medical stuff!"

"No, that's not true!" PR-35 pleaded with him, "Sire, tell him it isn't true!"

"Well of course it's not- Wait, did you call me Sire?" Ratchet asked quietly; cutting himself off mid-rant.

"Yes sir. Is that bad?" PR-35 asked nervously.

" _Bad_?" Ratchet chuckled at the absurdity of the notion, "No, it's not bad. Bluestreak, I have been waiting for this moment ever since you came here!"

Ratchet then hugged PR-35, and PR-35 finally felt comfortable enough to return the gesture. VS-5000 looked on in confusion, and Optimus couldn't help but smile at the warm scene between father and son.

"You hug your troops?" VS-5000 asked critically, but then after a pregnant pause asked, "So, can I have a hug too?"

Ratchet scowled, but PR-35 decided that he didn't want the mood being killed and hugged VS-5000. The Vehicon had been joking and now tried to escape the older Vehicon's embrace, but after a moment just gave up.

PR-35 led the other drone to a berth, and VS-5000 ran a finger over it to see how much dust was on the slab. Deciding it wasn't too bad, he sat down.

"So, this really isn't a trick?" VS-5000 asked for reassurance.

"It's not a trick," PR-35 replied, "Though we'll have to do the spark scan later, we can get the rest of your physical over with right now."

"And the spark scan will be safe?" VS-5000 asked nervously.

"I didn't even feel mine," PR-35 replied with a Vehicon approximation of a smile by tilting his helm back, "My sire is the best medic on the entire planet. He makes Knockout look like a joke."

"Yeah, well no one's laughing on the Nemesis," VS-5000 said darkly while Ratchet began the preliminary scans of his structure, "Knockout is gutting everyone like a bunch of dead poultry. Actually, I've been nervous around Megatron lately too. He's gotten crazier since we came to earth. I actually once hid in Knockout's quarters to get away from Megatron. That was a few months ago, but you won't believe what I found under Knockout's berth."

"What was it?" PR-35 whispered as he leaned in closer like a kid listening to a scary story.

"A _severed helm_ ," VS-5000 stage whispered, "It didn't belong to anyone in the crew registry, but it was too unique to be a drone's helm. It looked like it had been deactivated for vorns. I also found other body parts too, but not enough to rebuild the mech. It was freaky! I'm telling you, Knockout is messed up."

"Breakdown deserved a better friend than him," PR-35 said quietly as Ratchet drew some fuel out of VS-5000's elbow joint, "He deserved a better job too. If only he had known how welcoming the Autobots are, then maybe he would still be alive."

"Friends come and go," VS-5000 shrugged as he hopped down from the berth after his examination was complete, "After awhile you learn to tune them out. I like other Vehicons, but I know better than to get attached. What was the name of that friend of yours, TGP-555?"

"TGP-538," PR-35 replied sadly, "He was a pessimist, but he was a good listener. I will miss him, especially since now we'll never know who he was before Megatron got a hold of him. You don't have to have that fate, however. If we know who you are, then we might be able to locate your family and old friends. You could have a mate, parents, and children! You could have siblings, or even a gestalt! Just think about it, VS-5000...you could be anybody!"

"I could be Soundwave!" VS-5000 declared happily.

"Um, Soundwave is still alive, and he's a Decepticon," PR-35 pointed out awkwardly.

"Oh. Okay. I could be...Shockwave!" VS-5000 tried again.

"Again, Decepticon," PR-35 replied, "Also, he invented Vehicons, so he wouldn't _be_ a Vehicon."

"Okay dream squasher, is Silverbolt taken?" VS-5000 huffed as he crossed his arms over his chassis.

"No, you actually could be Silverbolt," Ratchet interjected, "Though given your current behavior I find it unlikely. Silverbolt was a fearful mech but he was never quite so...goofy."

"Goofy? I'm not goofy! I'm helpful!" VS-5000 protested, "Also I might not even be a mech. I could be Moonracer or Darkwind. Maybe I could even be Metroplex! Yeah, that would be funny. A Metroplex-sized Vehicon."

"That would be cool," PR-35 agreed.

"Well whoever you are, your scan is complete," Ratchet said impatiently, "Now get out of my medbay! I need to repair this scanner if we're ever going to know for sure who you are."

"Okay, cool," VS-5000 replied agreeably, "Hey, Optimus Prime left! I know, I'll bring him his favorite data pads! Then he'll be sure to like me! _Oh, Optimus_!"

VS-5000 left the room then, and PR-35 and Ratchet went back to work in the medbay preparing the machine. PR-35 didn't remember any of the drones acting so weird when he lived aboard the Nemesis, but VS-5000 was practically a cartoon character with the way he behaved and the antics he would pull. Then again, PR-35 had to admit to himself that he wasn't the same drone anymore either.

* * *

School break was the best time of the vorn for Bluestreak. He and his friends Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had gone to the park and goofed on some tourists, and then raced at the kiddie tracks. Sunstreaker had been embarrassed that they weren't at a real track, but Sideswipe was happy as could be as sparklings fawned over his daring stunts and perfect turns. Bluestreak was just happy to be included.

Now here they were, two of the most popular kids in his school were in his house, sitting on his couch, and hanging out with him. Bluestreak was used to doing things with the terror twins, but he had never invited them over to his house before. Usually his sire was home, and Ratchet didn't approve of Bluestreak befriending teenagers, especially troublemakers like the twins. Bluestreak had waited until his sire was at a medical convention before inviting his friends over.

Sunstreaker ran a digit over the nightstand next to the couch as if he could see the filth radiating from the furniture, and Sideswipe came back from the fuel room with every unhealthy energon treat he could find.

"By the way Blue, you're out of cobalt cubes," Sideswipe announced as he plopped down roughly on the couch and passed around the snacks to the others.

"I know," Bluestreak pouted, "Sire doesn't stock them so much since Prowl went off to the police academy. Cobalt was his favorite."

"Pfft, you talk about him like he's dead," Sunstreaker scoffed insensitively, "I still can't believe someone as cool as you has such a screw for a brother."

"Hey, Sunny, don't insult Blue's family," Sideswipe chided his brother while never losing his lopsided grin, "He can't help who he's stuck with anymore than I can. Hah!"

"Shut up, cherry aft," Sunstreaker griped, "Anyway, you got any good video games around here? All I see is Calculus Adventure and Turbo Fox Targets."

"Um...I have Puzzle Planet version 6," Bluestreak simpered, "Okay, so my games are scrap! I can't help it! Sire doesn't let me play the good games. He says it'll give me bad ideas."

"Yeah, well I say your current collection is a bad idea," Sideswipe remarked, "Don't worry Blue, I've got your back. I'll bring by my copy of Lost House of No Return Ever III. You can keep it for as long as you want."

"Really? That's awesome! Thanks, Sideswipe!" Bluestreak replied gratefully.

"Shh!" Sunstreaker suddenly hissed as he walked over to the window, "Hey Bluestreak, there's an ambulance in your driveway."

"Huh? Oh no! It's my sire!" Bluestreak exclaimed in a panic, "He's home early from the convention! Oh, what are we gonna do?"

"We?" Sunstreaker asked as he pointed to the now empty couch.

They heard the door to the storage closet slam, and realized Sideswipe had run off and locked himself inside. Sunstreaker sneered and ran after his twin, and then began banging loudly on the door.

" _Sideswipe_!" Bang bang, "Sideswipe you coward! Don't you dare leave me alone to deal with Bluestreak's psychotic sire! Sides!"

Sideswipe didn't come out, however, and the other two mechlings had no choice but to face the medic as he casually walked into his home. Bluestreak took that moment of obliviousness from his sire to hide the messy energon snacks in between the grooves of the couch's metallic slabs.

Ratchet was looking down at a data pad and not paying attention to the boys at first, but then he noticed a glint of gold in the corner of his vision. Ratchet looked up and saw the two mechlings; his son's optics bulging nervously and the taller boy's stance stiff and uncomfortable.

"Bluestreak, aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Ratchet asked calmly; though Bluestreak knew that probably wouldn't last.

"Um, yes Sire, this is my friend Sunstreaker," Bluestreak replied nervously, "He goes to my school. Sunstreaker, this is my Sire. He's a medic."

"I could tell," Sunstreaker deadpanned, "It's nice to meet you sir. I know I probably shouldn't be here when you're not home, but we had a long day of racing and wanted a snack. I assure you that everything is as clean as we found it."

"Mhm," Ratchet grunted; suspicious of the older boy, "So Bluestreak, where is your babysitter? He was supposed to watch you for four orns."

"Beachcomber went home early," Bluestreak replied, "He said something about drinking some bad energon. He didn't feel well, and I knew you didn't want me to stay by myself, so I called my friends so we could go out and play. The park looked really pretty at dawn. Sunstreaker painted a portrait of this femme that has a crush on him. He's a real good artist, Sire. Show him that one you did of the lob players!"

Sunstreaker rolled his optics and rifled through his subspace for the painting in question while Ratchet muttered something about how he shouldn't have trusted that little blue lush of a neighbor to watch his sparkling. Finally Sunstreaker pulled out three fabric-based canvases.

The first was a scene showcasing the Praxus Primary School's lob ball players from a distance. It had clearly been painted from the bleachers. The second picture was a rather unflattering caricature of their school principal. The third was an Autobot sigil with swirling bright neon colors against a black backdrop.

"Hm, these are impressive," Ratchet commented, "With some discipline I could see your art hanging in galleries someday."

"Thank you sir, but it's just a hobby," Sunstreaker replied respectfully, "What I'd much rather do is become a professional racer. My twin brother and I are the fastest kids in school, and someday I think we could really make it as professional athletes. Of course I hear that much racing really grinds the dirt into your tires. I'd have to have replacements fairly regularly to keep myself in pristine condition."

"Heheheh, pristine condition," Ratchet chuckled as he made his way to his office, "Oh, to be young again. You boys play quietly now. I have a lot of work to do in my office."

"Yes, Sire!" Bluestreak promised, then when Ratchet closed his office door both boys rushed to where the storage room was, "Sideswipe!" Bluestreak whispered, "Are you okay in there?"

"Is he gone?" Sideswipe whispered back worriedly.

"Yeah he's gone, you overgrown newspark," Sunstreaker growled softly, "Get out of there! We gotta get home!"

"You're sure he's not out there?" Sideswipe asked for reassurance.

"What are you so afraid of, slag heap?" Sunstreaker snipped.

"Well...I kind of...made a mess in the fuel room," Sideswipe admitted, "HadfunBluegottadothisagainbye!"

With those quickly spoken words Sideswipe ran out of the house with his annoyed brother in tow. Bluestreak, worried about what he would find, tiptoed into the fuel room.

* * *

PR-35 awoke feeling disappointed that he never found out what kind of mess was in the fuel room. Then he realized something. He remembered his dream clearly. He remembered what happened that day!

"VS-5000! Wake up!" PR-35 shouted as he jostled the Vehicon in the next berth, "Wake up! I remembered something!"

"Hey, quit it!" VS-5000 groused as he onlined with some difficulty, "Whatever you remembered tell whoever it concerns. I'm kinda busy here."

"You don't understand! It was a memory from when I was a sparkling, and it involved mechs that were my friends back then!" PR-35 exclaimed, "I remember Sideswipe and Sunstreaker!"

"Who?" VS-5000 asked groggily.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker!" PR-35 repeated happily, "They were older sparklings that went to the same school as me! Sunstreaker was an artist and Sideswipe was a freeloader that was scared of meeting my sire. Sire was in my dream too! He was telling the truth! Ratchet is my sire!"

"Okay, that's great," VS-5000 snapped irritably, "Now go back to recharge! We don't have work for another half a joor."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I was just so excited," PR-35 apologized, "Can you imagine? I have friends out there waiting for me. I have a sire, friends, and a new family with these Autobots."

"And humans," VS-5000 reminded him.

"Yeah, and humans," PR-35 replied wistfully, "I really need to find a way to thank Rafael. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him."

"Yeah he's okay, but Miko is the fun one," VS-5000 commented, "I wonder if I could be her butler? I bet her orders would be more interesting than the Prime's. Nah, he'd never give me up. We're tighter than rivets on a cartridge. Hey, do you think Prime is any closer to wanting to adopt me? I already know what I want my new name to be."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" PR-35 asked curiously.

"Alfred," VS-5000 replied.

" _Alfred_? What does that name even mean?" PR-35 asked skeptically.

"I dunno," VS-5000 shrugged from where he lay, "But he is the most famous butler in human media. Just think about it, I could be Alfred Prime, or Alfred Pax if he doesn't want me carrying the title."

"You are so weird. I think you might actually be broken," PR-35 remarked half-jokingly, "Seriously though, we'll know who you are soon enough, and then everything will be better."

"Yeah...Alfred Pax Nakadai..." VS-5000 muttered as he drifted back off to sleep.

PR-35 was close to drifting back off into recharge himself, but then suddenly sat up and asked "Nakadai?"


	17. New Additions

_Author's Notes: A huge thanks to everyone who is reading and supporting this story! I don't have much else to say, except I hope you enjoy this chapter :)_

* * *

Chapter 17

New Additions

VS-5000 had only been with the Autobots for eight days, but it already felt like a lifetime for Ratchet. He loved his son, but Optimus Prime's new 'butler' was starting to get on the medic's last nerve wire. Of course this anger was mostly at the fact that he and Bluestreak were still being forced to repair the spark scanner that no good miscreant Vehicon had damaged.

Other than Ratchet's muttered curses the base was mostly quiet. Optimus Prime was slowly and diligently getting some paperwork done while VS-5000 kept trying to ply the Autobot leader with energon. Ratchet would think it was a ploy to weaken their leader on the part of the Vehicon, but VS-5000 didn't seem smart enough to be that creative.

Bulkhead and Ironhide were crawling around on the floor for their rehab exercises, and Miko and Chromia were shouting at them to keep going like a couple of drill sergeants. It seemed that in some respects the two females had things in common. Arcee was relaxing for a change as she watched Jack and Raf play video games, and Bumblebee was chewing on some energon that had been laced with lead to give it a more appealing metallic flavor as he likewise watched the kids play their game. The scene was peaceful despite how tense everything had been with Bulkhead and Ironhide almost dying a week prior.

Their peaceful day came to a complete halt however as their computer beeped to indicate a call from Agent Fowler.

"Prime!" Fowler shouted as soon as Optimus answered the comm, "There's been a report of three robots of unknown origin spotted near a campsite in the Redwood National Forest. You been there recently?"

"No," Prime replied, "Ratchet, scan for Decepticons in that region."

Ratchet went to his terminal and scanned for any activity. Sure enough, there were three Cybertronian life signatures in the forest.

"It's them, Optimus," Ratchet informed him gravely.

"Agent Fowler, have you evacuated the area?" Optimus asked.

"You know it," Fowler replied calmly, "Told everyone the area was closed for the filming of a Hollywood blockbuster. So, what do you think they want?"

"I am not certain," Optimus replied, "We can only hope that no humans have been harmed. I will inform you of any new developments. Optimus out."

He turned to the Autobots, and Arcee and Bumblebee were already mobilized. Chromia soon joined them, followed by the two Vehicons. Bulkhead and Ironhide both looked disappointed that they couldn't go with them.

"Arcee Bumblebee and Chromia, you're with me," Optimus ordered, "Ratchet, activate the ground bridge."

"Don't you want us too, sir?" PR-35 asked, "I'm a medic in training. You might need field assistance."

"Yeah, can't we come too, Daddy?" VS-5000 asked as he clasped his servos in front of his body in an attempt to look innocent.

" _Daddy_?" Arcee asked; a slight smirk on her face plate.

Optimus held his helm in his hand as he tried to figure out where in the universe VS-5000 picked up this new strange habit.

"VS-5000, I am not your father," Optimus told him in no uncertain terms.

"But you adopted Bumblebee!" VS-5000 whined, "Why can't I be your son too? What's so great about Bumblebee? Is it because he can't sass you anymore?"

[I can still communicate, slagger!] Bumblebee snapped at the Vehicon, [Maybe we should just let them come with us so VS will shut up.]

Optimus Prime sighed and silently wondered what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. As leader he had encountered many strange alien customs, dangerous foes, and quirky Autobots, but VS-5000 was a contender for the most awkward situation Optimus Prime had ever been forced to deal with.

"Alright Vehicons, you may both join us, but understand that the situation could become a conflict of interest for you," Optimus warned them, "We are going in to fight Decepticons. They might be officers or they might be drones. Either way I expect you to do your best to get the best of them and return to base safely with the rest of us. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," PR-35 replied formally.

"Don't worry, I'll fight with everything I have," VS-5000 agreed, "If I start to feel remorse, I'll just pretend they're Autobots."

Everyone in the room gave VS-5000 a cold stare at that remark.

"Oops...I didn't mean it like that," VS-5000 simpered sheepishly, "Uh, Doc? Could you activate the ground bridge? Like, _now_?"

Ratchet sighed sharply and shook his helm incredulously at how immature VS-5000 could be. It did bring up a nagging thought in the back of Ratchet's processor though. Just because he trusted Bluestreak, did that mean all Vehicons could become trustworthy? Was VS-5000 willing to betray them?

These thoughts had to be shoved aside as Ratchet activated the ground bridge and watched as the Autobots went through to defeat whatever evil scheme Megatron and his forces were working on. He only hoped this time he wasn't saying goodbye to Bluestreak for the last time.

* * *

When the Autobots made it to the Redwood National Forest the first thing they noticed were the large spectacular trees. The second thing they noticed was the sound of a stereo playing jungle drum music in the distance.

"Do you think there are humans nearby?" Arcee asked worriedly; her cannons armed and ready to strike the first 'Con that reared its ugly helm.

"My scanners do not detect human activity," Optimus replied guardedly, "However, I am detecting the three Decepticon signals coming from the same direction as the music."

"Maybe Megatron decided to go all-out and sacrifice a goat to Unicron," VS-5000 remarked half-jokingly.

"Eww, I did _not_ need that image!" PR-35 snapped, but that just made VS-5000 laugh at him.

"Shh!" Chromia hissed, "Would you two be quiet? We might still have the element of surprise."

Optimus nodded to her and motioned for everyone to keep silent. The five Autobots (more or less) tiptoed through the forest with their weapons at the ready. They hid behind the large trees for cover with Optimus walking out into the open first and then motioning for his team when it was safe. They made it past about two dozen trees before they saw what they were looking for, and they were surprised by the sight that lay ahead of them.

There were indeed three Vehicons, but they looked nothing like Megatron's soldiers normally would. For one thing, two of the drones were merely servant class while one was warrior class, and for another thing their bodies were covered in mud that had been drawn into intricate designs resembling war paint. They were sitting around a campfire and talking, and they didn't seem to notice the Autobots watching them from behind the trees.

/PR-35 and VS-5000,/ Optimus addressed them over the comm system, /You should go first and make contact with the Vehicons. If we can recruit them rather than harm them it would be preferable./

/Aww, but I already share a room with PR-35!/ VS-5000 whined, /We don't have anymore space! Can't we just shoot them?/

/No,/ Optimus replied point blank, /VS-5000, this is your first official mission as an Autobot. You and PR-35 are liaisons, official ambassadors, for Team Prime. You can do this. Don't let me down./

Optimus was tempted to say 'that's an order', but he didn't want to be too forceful with a drone that had been given no choice his entire known life. He hoped that positive encouragement would work better to bolster his confidence.

/You heard him, VS-5000,/ PR-35 chimed in, /We don't shoot unless they shoot first. If they try to kill us, then you can eviscerate them./

/Oh, okay,/ VS-5000 replied in higher spirits.

The two Autobot Vehicons made their way toward the makeshift drum circle, and while walking there PR-35 tried to figure out who these Vehicons were and what they might be doing here. After a moment he recognized SS-PLX-04, and remembered that he collected music. Well, that would explain the drums. So, who were these other two?

"Excuse me, fellow Vehicons," PR-35 greeted them neutrally so as not to startle them.

That didn't work, as all three Vehicons jumped at once to gawk at PR-35 and VS-5000. 4 immediately powered his weapons and aimed them at the pair, and scowled when he had to turn off his music to do so.

"Alright scrap piles, identify yourselves!" 4 ordered harshly.

"I am PR-35 and this is VS-5000," PR-35 replied cooperatively.

"PR-35? I thought you were offline," 4 stated quizzically, "You were sent with me and a few others to guard a mine shaft, but you never came back. I just assumed when the Autobots attacked they vaporized you. How did you survive?"

"I was helping some miners load crystals," PR-35 explained, "When I went out there the only body I found was TGP-538. What happened to the others?"

"Vaporized," 4 shrugged, "It happens all the time. You get used to it. What I ain't used to though is drones coming back from the dead."

"Wait, did you say the mines?" Another Vehicon from the group asked, "I thought I remembered you!"

"Do I know you?" PR-35 asked.

"ICN-995, and you of course remember ICN-994," ICN-995 reintroduced himself.

"I remember you two," VS-5000 interjected, and then started making kissing noises to taunt them.

"I'll kill him," ICN-994 growled, "It's three against one, and Megatron won't miss him!" She then activated two hand drills and aimed for them.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a klik!" PR-35 quickly shouted, "I'm sorry on behalf of my fellow Vehicon VS-5000."

"But I'm not sorry," VS-5000 argued.

" _Shut up_ ," PR-35 hissed quietly, "So, now that we all know each other, I would like to offer you three a unique opportunity to advance your lot in life."

"We're not going back to the Nemesis!" ICN-994 shouted vehemently.

"You don't have to," PR-35 replied encouragingly, "In fact, you shouldn't. We Vehicons have been lied to about our state of existence by Megatron for our entire lives. Well, the parts we can remember anyway. I guess that's not technically our entire lives, but it's-"

"You're talking in circles," 4 stated in a critical tone of voice, "Get to the point."

"We're not mere drones," PR-35 explained, "We're actually mechs and femmes that were turned into drones by Shockwave for Megatron's army. We were built using the Sparks and processors of former Autobots and neutrals. We're not just equipment, but rather real Cybertronians!"

"That's crazy talk," 4 scoffed, "The Autobots are obviously using this story to recruit Vehicons for themselves."

"Then we should let them," ICN-994 interjected with a devious tilt of her helm, "Think about it, 4. If the Autobots want us to buy into this whole _real mech_ malarkey, then they'll let us do whatever we want. They'll let you download as much music as you want, they'll allow ICN-995 and I to hold servos like other couples do, and they might even give us stuff. It's the perfect plan."

"Stuff?" 4 perked up at that notion, "Like, actually own stuff of our own? You think they'll give us data pads?"

"Um, I don't think you understand the significance of this discovery," PR-35 attempted feebly to reason with them.

"Maybe they'll let me and ICN-994 share a berth," ICN-995 suggested, "Then we could fall asleep in each other's arms."

"Ooh! I love it when you talk rebellious like that!" ICN-994 gushed, "Come on 4, let's do it! I'm tired of this vagabond lifestyle. I'm ready to get back to work again."

"For the Autobots? I don't know..." 4 shook his helm; conflicted, "It would be cool to be allowed to dance during my break periods though."

"Yeah, and we wouldn't have to worry about being killed by Autobots," ICN-995 pointed out, "After all, mining for them isn't that much different from mining for Megatron, as long as we get our share."

"Wait! What if it's a trap?" ICN-994 suddenly exclaimed, "What if these two are just being used as bait and as soon as we get close enough the Autobots rip off our helms and crush our sparks?"

"Well...that was morbid," VS-5000 commented, "Listen, we're not bait. Bait is for fish, and the only Decepticon that looks like a fish is Knockout. Oh mech, I just scared myself for a second. Is anyone else freaked out by Knockout, or is it just me?"

"He tried to kill my sparkmate," ICN-995 grumbled as he held ICN-994 protectively close to him.

"He's been killing us left and right!" VS-5000 declared frantically, "Listen, even if the Autobots eventually turn on us, it's still faster than slowly dying on Knockout's operating table. You might as well come with us."

"Hm...The soldier has a point," ICN-994 finally conceded, "What do you say, boys? Are we in?"

"I'm in," ICN-995 nodded, "4?"

"...Aw, frag. What do I have to lose?" 4 surrendered to the popular vote, but then turned to PR-35 and said, "If you kill me though, I'm never speaking to you again."

The five Vehicons walked back to where the Autobots were waiting and Arcee, Bumblebee, and Chromia were ready with weapons drawn. Optimus did not have his weapons online since he didn't want to overwhelm the Vehicons.

"Well?" Optimus asked once they were close enough.

"Sir, this is SS-PLX-04, warrior class," PR-35 introduced them, "And these are two servant class miners. Their serial numbers are INC-994 and ICN-995. They're bonded, sort of."

"Bonded?" Arcee asked skeptically, "How does _that_ work?"

"It doesn't, but nothing stops true love," ICN-995 declared proudly, "It is an honor to meet under these circumstances, esteemed Autobots. If you will have us, we wish to indenture ourselves to you. Do with us as you see fit."

"I appreciate your willingness to join us as well as your good manners," Optimus replied warmly, "We will do all we can to make you feel welcome until we can sort out whether or not you have any living relatives."

"Any what now?" ICN-994 muttered in confusion.

"Ratchet, send us a ground bridge," Optimus spoke out loud into the comm.

The swirling green vortex appeared before them. Optimus, Chromia, and the first two Vehicons went in first. Arcee and Bumblebee waited for the other three Vehicons. 4 bravely strode into the ground bridge helm-first into the unknown. INC-995 held out his servo for his beloved, and ICN-994 took it. Together they walked into the portal, with Arcee and Bumblebee going in behind them.

* * *

As soon as the Autobots entered the base with the new Vehicons Ratchet ran up to them with a worried expression on his face plate.

"Optimus, a new signal is coming in from earth's orbit," Ratchet informed them, "It looks to be a ship of Cybertronian origin."

"Is it Autobot or Decepticon?" Optimus asked first thing.

"I cannot be sure," Ratchet replied disappointedly, "However I can triangulate where it will land."

"Well then, it looks as if our mission is not over," Optimus noted, "Arcee, Bumblebee and PR-35, you are with me. Chromia and VS-5000, please show our new guests around the base. Ratchet, prepare the medbay in case of emergency."

"What!? But you might need more firepower!" Chromia protested.

"I need you here, Chromia," Optimus told her, /In case the Vehicons try to attack the base,/ he added over the comm.

"Ugh, _fine_!" Chromia threw her arms up in exasperation, "Come on, let's see if we can find some berths for you guys. I just hope whatever is in that pod doesn't turn into another mouth to fuel."

With the roster decided, Ratchet fired up the ground bridge for the team. Optimus and his selected teammates left the base, and Ratchet for the second time that day felt his spark hitch in his chassis. He didn't like that Bluestreak kept getting sent on missions, but he understood that their numbers were low enough to need more Autobots out in the field. Still, it worried Ratchet. No matter how much time had passed, that was still his sparkling going out there.

* * *

By the time the Autobots found the pod it had already landed and whoever was inside was already gone. Sure enough, it was a Decepticon escape pod. It looked like it had been blasted open from the inside, so whoever had been in there was trigger happy.

"Stay alert, team," Optimus cautioned them.

Almost as soon as he said that they heard the unholy battle cry of an Insecticon horde! It looked like there were ten of them, and with only 4 Autobots on the scene they were vastly outnumbered.

The team started firing on the Insecticons as soon as they saw them. Optimus picked off a couple, and Arcee and Bumblebee managed to get one each. PR-35 never missed a shot, but it would take four or five shots to down an Insecticon using the inferior Vehicon arm cannon. He only managed to shoot down one. That meant there were still still five Insecticons left.

All of a sudden, a whooping noise came out of the brush, and out of nowhere a white and blue mech came leaping and charging into the battle. He cheered and whooped as he shot and tackled the Insecticons one by one. He then fired on the escape pod; letting loose the energon inside. The new mech then fired on the flammable fluid; burning up the remaining Insecticons.

"Whew! Some welcoming party, huh?" The new mech commented as he drew closer to them, "We really showed them huh?"

That was when Arcee noticed the Autobot sigil on the stranger's armor, but she knew better than to immediately trust the new guy. For all they knew he could be a Decepticon plant.

[Nice shooting,] Bumblebee commented.

"Thank you for your assistance," Optimus said gratefully, "What is your designation, fellow Autobot?"

"Huh? Oh I'm- Whoa, wait," The new mech suddenly looked starstruck as he looked up at the calm yet inviting face plate of the Autobot leader, "You're Optimus Prime! He's _Optimus Prime_!" The new mech gushed as he turned to the other Autobots.

"Yes, and you are?" Optimus gently reminded him of his former question.

"Huh? Oh, right. Smokescreen, cadet in the elite guard, _sir_!" Smokescreen replied in clipped formal tones.

"You were elite guard?" Arcee asked skeptically.

"Yeah, but it was a gloried boot camp by the time I got there," Smokescreen shrugged, "I never even got a graduation ceremony."

"Well there was a war going on," Arcee reminded him harshly.

"What was your assignment in the elite guard?" Optimus asked to avoid any tension between Arcee and the new Autobot.

"Guarding Alpha Trion," Smokescreen informed him, "At first I wasn't thrilled about guarding some old guy. I wanted to be right in the action taking down 'Cons! Of course it turned out he was pretty cool. He told me he was the one who endorsed you as Prime back when you worked at the hall of records."

Optimus nodded solemnly in remembrance before asking, "And what became of Alpha Trion?"

"I don't know," Smokescreen replied ruefully, "I was supposed to protect him, but instead I got knocked out and captured by the 'Cons. They held me prisoner on one of their ships until I escaped in that life pod. That's how I ended up here."

"Hm, Alpha Trion would not have trusted the information you know about me to anyone unless they had proven themselves worthy," Optimus stated thoughtfully, "I am grateful you made it to earth safely. Ratchet, open a ground bridge."

"Just like that?" Arcee asked critically.

"Wow, I get to work with _the_ Optimus Prime!" Smokescreen exclaimed excitedly as soon as the portal opened, "I knew I was destined for greatness! This is the happiest day of my- Decepticon!"

Smokescreen then pushed ahead of Optimus and fired on what he thought was a Decepticon sneaking up behind Bumblebee. It wasn't a Decepticon however; it was PR-35.

PR-35 saw what was about to happen and leapt out of the way, but Smokescreen still managed to shoot him in the pede.

" _Ow_! Hey, what did I do!?" PR-35 screamed as he clutched his wounded pede.

Smokescreen went to aim his weapon again, but Optimus grabbed his cannon arm and prevented him from firing again.

"Hey, what are you doing? That's a Decepticon!" Smokescreen protested.

"Smokescreen, a lot has happened since you left Cybertron," Optimus told him, "I will explain once we are back at the base. Bluestreak, can you walk?"

"Um...I can hop on one pede...for a few steps," PR-35 simpered; trying not to look weak in front of the others.

[I'll help him,] Bumblebee volunteered.

Bumblebee then wrapped one of PR-35's arms around his neck cables to balance the impaired Vehicon. Smokescreen cocked a brow ridge in bewilderment as he watched the others enter the ground bridge with PR-35. This seemed wrong on so many levels, but if Optimus wanted the Vehicon to return to base with them then who was he to say no?


	18. Love's Empty Shell

_Author's Notes: Wow, this fic has over 9,300 views as of this update! Wow, this is so cool! At this rate it could become my most-read fic on the site so far! Yay! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you like this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

* * *

Chapter 18

Love's Empty Shell

It had been a few hours since the Autobots returned with Smokescreen in tow. PR-35's pede was repaired quickly, and afterward Ratchet asked him to volunteer for exploratory surgery to map the Vehicon's processor in hopes of finding a cure for the memory loss. PR-35 agreed to do all he could to help. Now he was regretting that decision.

"Ow! Sire, do I really have to be awake for this?" PR-35 griped as the stylus ghosted over his exposed processor.

"I'm sorry Bluestreak, but yes," Ratchet replied as gently as he could while he was working, "If we're going to find where your memories are stored, then you have to be able to tell me what happens when I stimulate a certain area of your processor. Hm, this corroded red chip seems suspicious. I'm going to open its casing to expose the circuit array. Let me know if you need me to stop at any point."

PR-35 would have nodded, but his helm was held firmly in place by magnetic restraints. He was grateful at times like this for processor shielding. Still, this whole procedure made him nervous, even if he knew Ratchet was the best medic the Autobots had.

Ratchet carefully peeled back the casing on the unknown piece that was clamped onto Bluestreak's processor like a bloodthirsty tick. Ratchet just knew that something wasn't right about this chip, but at the same time he couldn't just yank it out without knowing what it was or what it did.

Ratchet stimulated a synapse on the upper right corner and asked Bluestreak what he felt or if anything was different.

"What!? Where am I?" PR-35 suddenly shouted as he tried in vain to sit up, "Wait a klik, you're an _Autobot_! I've been captured by the Autobots! No! I won't tell you anything you slagger! Let me go right now!"

Ratchet was horrified by what he was seeing. Stimulating that piece had somehow reset Bluestreak to his pre-cognitive Vehicon mode. Ratchet had to do something to recover his son's mind, so he tapped the same synapse again to see what would happen.

This time the Vehicon stilled, and then slowly turned his helm to Ratchet. Ratchet held his intake to see if what he had done had worked.

"Drone PR-35 awaiting core programming," PR-35 said in a lifeless monotone, "What are your orders?"

"No..." Ratchet whispered fearfully, " _Bluestreak_!"

Hearing the medic's shouting, Optimus ran into the room immediately.

"Ratchet, what happened?" Optimus asked worriedly.

"I think...I think I might've lost my son...again," Ratchet answered; his voice shaky and barely above a whisper.

"No," Optimus whispered in reply as he set a firm servo on Ratchet's shoulder guard in an attempt to comfort him.

"PR-35 awaiting core programming," The Vehicon repeated without inflection.

"Ratchet, if you need assistance-" Optimus began to offer, but was cut off when Ratchet snapped at him by saying, "No, Optimus."

Optimus gave his old friend a sympathetic look, and Ratchet sighed wearily.

"I'm sorry, but I'm the only medic here now," Ratchet pointed out, "If Bluestreak is going to get better, then I have to keep working. If I can find the key to unlocking Bluestreak's memories, then I can still save him."

"I see...Let me know if you need anything," Optimus replied sincerely before turning to go.

Ratchet watched as Optimus left, but as soon as the Prime was gone turned right back to his son's glitched processor. He couldn't lose him, not again. Not after losing Bluestreak once already, not after losing Cybertron...not after losing Prowl.

* * *

The New Polyhex Space Station had just been reclaimed by the Autobots, and Optimus wanted to be there to bolster the morale of his troops as well as help them get a supply chain going. Among those traveling with Prime was Ratchet, and for once he was looking forward to their next mission.

Prowl was going to be the new station commander, and Ratchet hadn't seen his son in 10 vorns. He was so proud of everything Prowl had been able to accomplish. He was a high ranking officer among the Autobots, he was hailed as a brilliant tactician that had won many victories for their people, and now he would have his own command.

The ship docked, and Team Prime walked through the entrance tube into the main reception area of the space station. Ratchet was surprised and genuinely touched when he saw that Prowl, Jazz, and Bumblebee were there to greet them. He knew Optimus was pleased as well, since Bumblebee was his youngest son.

"Optimus Prime sir, it is an honor to welcome aboard the New Polyhex interstellar space colony," Prowl greeted the Prime in a formal tone of voice, "Quarters have been arranged for yourself and your crew. Bumblebee will be your guide through the station. If you need anything I am at your service."

"And the wash racks are right down the hall," Jazz interjected with a cheeky smile.

Prowl sighed sharply at Jazz's crude sense of humor, but Ratchet could barely see the corners of Prowl's mouth turn upwards; as if he were fighting the urge to smile. Ratchet smiled himself when he saw that. Prowl tried so hard to be the stoic figure that could march through life with only logic to guide him, but Ratchet knew better. He still remembered when Prowl was a sparkling and would cry over spilled energon or huff when he was having a fight with one of his little friends.

"I appreciate how much effort you have put in to making us feel welcome," Optimus commended Prowl, "We can go over the possibilities for energon importers next orn. For now I have other duties to attend," Then in a lower voice he said, "Besides, your sire really wants to spend the orn with you."

Prowl looked flustered for a moment, but then recovered enough to say "Um, of course, sir. Thank you, sir."

Bumblebee eagerly showed Optimus around while Jazz helped the rest of the new Autobots find their quarters on the station's map, which left just Ratchet and Prowl. Ratchet smiled warmly at his creation, seeing just how little he'd changed yet how much of a mech he had grown up to be.

"I'm surprised Jazz was able to transfer to the same assignment as you," Ratchet commented with amusement in his voice.

"He's harder to get rid of than a rust infection," Prowl groused using his sire's favorite saying, though it was clear Prowl was only teasing, "Honestly Sire, Jazz is probably one of the most competent spies I've ever seen. I fear he's wasting his talents here, but he said he wanted a break. Frankly I think he just likes annoying me."

"He's probably afraid you'll be killed if he isn't there to save you," Ratchet observed, "You two have been closer than brothers for more vorns than I can count. With the rest of his family and most of his old friends gone I'm not surprised he's so protective of you."

"Not to mention _Barricade_ ," Prowl growled angrily.

"Barricade? Did he die?" Ratchet asked in concern.

"Worse, he's a Decepticon now," Prowl replied bitterly, "Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the commissary."

"Alright then," Ratchet nodded, "I'm sorry you two lost a friend. Megatron's rhetoric can be enticing to those who lust for power."

"Indeed," Prowl agreed, "Of course I've seen too much of his _rhetoric_ in action to believe he is anything other than a monster. Bumblebee told me something interesting last orn. He said you were the field medic that saved his life after the battle in Tyger Pax."

"I didn't get there in time," Ratchet sighed ruefully, "I couldn't save his voice box."

"No, but you did save his life," Prowl replied undeterred, "He said Megatron tortured him for several joors. Now, I try not to get too close to the Autobots under my command, but with Bumblebee...he's too young for this scrap, Sire. Megatron almost killed him for information. He's only half the age Bluestreak would be right now if he were still alive, and yet he does the same job as Jazz. I can't help but fear for the future of our race when we send our youngest and most vulnerable 'Bots out there to face psychopaths like Megatron on a battlefield. I just wish this would all stop."

"So do I Prowl," Ratchet said quietly as he walked down the halls with Prowl, "So do I."

"I couldn't save him," Prowl abruptly said, and Ratchet didn't know what he meant at first, "Bluestreak, I couldn't save him."

"Oh," Ratchet replied; his spark heavy as he finally understood why Prowl was so upset.

"I was right there with him," Prowl lamented, "When the house came down around us, I could hear him crying; calling out my name. I don't know how long I was unconscious under all that rubble. When I managed to dig myself out I searched for Bluestreak, but I couldn't find him. I couldn't even feel our fraternal spark bond anymore. No matter how many lives I protect, I can never live that down. Our new scout Bumblebee just reminds me of that failure."

"You didn't fail," Ratchet consoled his son, "You didn't have time to react. No one could expect anything more of you, and I'm sure if Bluestreak were here right now he wouldn't hold it against you. Truth is, I've felt similar feelings about the whole thing. Wondering what I could've done differently. Should I have stayed home? Should I have paid closer attention to the news? Should I have taught you how to perform spark resuscitation? So many questions I can never truly answer."

Ratchet and Prowl didn't say much more to each other for a while after that. They didn't have to. They both understood each other's guilt and grief over the loss of their home city as well as the loss of the sparkling that had once filled their lives with chatter and optimism. As they refueled in the commissary everything seemed quiet and sepulchral; as if the loss had only just occurred.

* * *

Ratchet tried to pull himself out of that memory, but part of him just wanted to go back and live in it. He remembered Prowl showing him the improvements they made to the space station. He remembered the joy on Optimus' face plate when Hound managed to get time off and visit them there with his brand new son Drill Bit. It was the last time either of those two would be seen alive again.

Even though the memories were bitter, somehow it still beat staring his new failure in the face plate. He had reset Bluestreak's processor, and he didn't know if he could get it back. He might've essentially killed Bluestreak all over again. The medic's servos shook as he tried to get a grip. The Vehicon had stopped asking for programming, but it didn't move or speak at all. It was as if the Vehicon refused to move until it was given orders to follow.

Just then Smokescreen walked into the medbay, oblivious to what had just happened or the pain Ratchet was feeling at the moment.

"Hey Doc, Arcee said I was supposed to see you for my physical," Smokescreen explained, "Of course I'm sure you'll find I'm in excellent shape, but better safe than sorry, right?"

"Can't you see I'm busy right now?" Ratchet snapped harshly; too spark broken to care that Smokescreen hadn't done anything to provoke such a reaction.

"What, with the Vehicon?" Smokescreen asked casually, "His pede looks great. You can dismiss him now and we can get this over with."

"I have more important things to do than check your fuel pressure!" Ratchet practically screamed at Smokescreen, "I said _I'm_ _busy_!"

Smokescreen flinched for a second, but then quickly recovered and retorted with "Oh come on, Doc. It's just a Vehicon! We kill these things every orn! It can wait outside until we're done."

Ratchet, unwilling to take anymore, slapped Smokescreen hard across the face! Smokescreen was stunned by the medic's actions, and Ratchet wasted no time in pushing Smokescreen out of his medbay and locking the doors behind him.

Smokescreen just stood outside the door looking at it for a moment, unsure of how to respond. He slowly walked away feeling dejected and uncertain about how to proceed.

"I saw what happened," A deep voice behind Smokescreen said ruefully, "Do you need anything?"

Smokescreen turned around to see it was one of the servant class drones.

"I don't get it," Smokescreen vented to the Vehicon despite not really knowing what it was doing in the base, "I've only been here a few hours, and it seems like everybody already hates me. Arcee is rude to me, Bulkhead and Ironhide hate my struts, and even Ratchet hit me and forced me out of the medbay! Has the whole universe gone _insane_?"

"Perhaps," The Vehicon replied; shocking Smokescreen by how blunt it was, "I cannot speak for everyone else, but I know why Ratchet is upset. I heard Optimus Prime tell Ironhide about it. Drone PR-35 has been reset and now he no longer remembers who he is or why he is here."

"Did he have some information the Autobots need?" Smokescreen asked worriedly.

"I don't think so. We drones are rarely told anything of consequence," The Vehicon shrugged, "However, VS-5000 has informed me that Ratchet adopted PR-35 as his own. Apparently Ratchet renamed him Bluestreak and has been forcing the drone to pretend to be his dead sparkling."

"That's...actually pretty creepy," Smokescreen commented.

"Oh I doubt PR-35 minded," The other drone chuckled softly, "I've met him on occasion, and he is a drone that craves attention. He will talk to anyone that will talk to him, and he desires more than anything for someone to care about him. If that love was based off a lie or a delusion from an Autobot torturer, well then I think that still would've been alright with PR-35. I am so grateful that I've always had love. It would be terrible to live my entire life without it."

"Your entire life?" Smokescreen repeated in confusion, "You mean Buckethead? He doesn't love you."

"I know," The Vehicon replied with a slow nod, "I was referring to my mate, ICN-994."

"Your mate!?" Smokescreen asked incredulously, "Okay, I don't know much about Vehicons so I'm not saying it's impossible, but how do you...I mean, how can you bond to something that doesn't have a spark?"

"You can't," ICN-995 replied bluntly, "That has never stopped us though. Just because we cannot share a spark bond doesn't mean what we have isn't special. I still remember the orn I onlined for the first time. I was standing in a line of maybe one hundred other drones. Shockwave was programming us each one by one. I just stood there waiting patiently for a while, but then I turned to look at the drone next to me only to find I was likewise being scrutinized. At first we just looked at each other, then I wiped some dust from the other drone's face plate, then she tilted her helm in a coy type way, and I felt it."

"Felt what?" Smokescreen asked curiously.

"I don't know how to describe it," ICN-995 shook his helm, "It was a feeling of warmth and comfort emanating from my chassis. We didn't speak to one another, yet we both knew. We knew we would be with each other forever, and that nothing could separate us. The feeling in my chassis left after my programming by Shockwave, but the love I felt for my ICN-994 never left. We have moved to several different mines over the vorns, but we have never allowed ourselves to be separated. I would rather die than abandon my beloved. I just hope the Prime will never find out how strong our feelings are."

"Why would you keep something that important a secret?" Smokescreen asked.

"Because he could use it to punish us," ICN-995 replied, "Then again, you will probably tell him. As a real mech and an Autobot warrior, I know you owe us nothing. I don't know why I told you all that. I guess I'm not the brightest cube of energon in the cupboard. I suppose we're doomed now."

"Optimus wouldn't use something as good and pure as love to hurt you," Smokescreen told him.

"Of course he would," ICN-995 argued, "He is equal to Megatron, and therefore can do whatever he wants. Vehicons do not matter to real mechs. I only hope I never do anything to anger him enough to kill her."

Smokescreen didn't reply, because he didn't know what to say. A few moments ago he had told Ratchet that Vehicons didn't matter because they were cannon fodder. Now, looking at one of these drones up close without the fear of death looming over him, Smokescreen could see it wasn't that simple. This drone had feelings. It was able to show empathy, love, fear, and desire.

"Hey," Smokescreen called out as the Vehicon attempted to walk away, "Do you have a name?"

"ICN-995," He rattled off without missing a beat.

"Really? That's _it_?" Smokescreen asked in distaste, "What does the ICN stand for anyway?"

"Iacon," ICN-995 replied, "Tens of thousands of drones have this serial lettering. The Decepticons manufactured many drones from parts in Iacon."

Smokescreen began to feel dread in his spark when he realized something about the drone in Ratchet's medbay, but he had to ask anyway.

"So, PR stands for...?"

"Praxus," ICN-995 confirmed, "Only 42 drones were ever built in the ruined city, and PR-35 is the only one left of that original line."

"I see," Smokescreen replied; his tone now glum and reserved, "My sire was from Praxus. He escaped the devastation by pure dumb luck. He happened to be in Helex when the 'Cons slaughtered everyone in Praxus. He used to tell me stories of how awesome Praxus was back in its glory days. I wish I could've seen it."

"I am sorry you never did," ICN-995 replied mournfully, "I know Cybertron deserved better than this. I am only a miner, but I still feel just as responsible as everyone else. We allowed our world to die, and I am sorry that young ones like you will only have vague memories of it in the vorns to come."

Smokescreen smiled wanly at the Vehicon before turning to go back toward the medbay. He knew it probably wouldn't make a difference, but he felt like he really needed to apologize to Ratchet. As he headed toward the medbay, he wondered what kind of personality that PR Vehicon had, and whether or not it was lost forever.


	19. Recovery

_Author's Notes: A very special Thank You to all of my readers! This fic is the second fic I've ever written to reach over 10,500 views! Hooray! *throws pathetically small amount of confetti*. Anyway, I had wanted to include more plot points in this chapter, but I realized if I did that then this segment wouldn't get the attention and emotion it needs, so this chapter focuses on PR-35. The next chapter will have more to do with the other Vehicons. This is also a chapter I've been looking forward to for a while because a big development happens in the story. I hope you guys like this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines", and thank you for 10,500 views :)_

* * *

Chapter 19

Recovery

PR-35 was frightened. He had been online for over a joor and had yet to receive his core programming. Mechs and other drones rushed about the facility and ignored him completely. Why was his processor so empty? What was he supposed to do? Who was his master? Was he broken? Would he be forced to sit on the berth until his power gave out? Why wouldn't anyone _tell_ him anything?

The white and orange mech was in the room the most. Was that his master, or did he merely work for his master? Was PR-35 permitted to speak? Would he ever be programmed? Should he restate his request for programming again? That would make 36 times he did so. Was the 36th time the one the mech was waiting for?

The white and orange mech left the room looking dejected and tired. Scrap! PR-35 missed his chance to ask for programming again! The drone went back to doing absolutely nothing and wondered if he was just a decorative Vehicon. Perhaps his purpose was to sit there without programming as a display model for potential masters that wanted other Vehicons.

A couple breems later the door opened, and PR-35 was about to ask for programming, but then realized it was just another drone. Why did that drone get to have programming when he didn't? It wasn't fair!

"Hey, PR-35," VS-5000 greeted him as cheerfully as he could manage given the circumstances, "You should probably transform or something. You don't wanna get stuck like that, do you?"

"Invalid user," PR-35 replied; unwilling to take orders from a mere machine.

"Yeah, and you're _so_ valid!" VS-5000 scoffed, "Look mech, you can't sit here forever. Your sire is worried about you, and he's yelling at us. Come on, get up! Even if you don't remember being Bluestreak, just pretend that you do and it'll make him feel better. Okay?"

"Invalid user," PR-35 repeated.

"Ugh! This is hopeless!" VS-5000 exclaimed, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish Soundwave was here! He knows how to hack into anything, so maybe he could hack into your processor and- wait! That's it! We gotta take you to Soundwave, and he can repair you! Oh mech, it's perfect!"

"Invalid user," PR-35 repeated again.

"Oh, right. You need programming," VS-5000 deflated when he realized his idea wasn't as brilliant as he thought, "Wait right here!"

VS-5000 ran out of the medbay in search of an Autobot, and the first one he saw was Bumblebee, who was repairing a lob ball Bulkhead and Ironhide had been using for physical therapy.

"Hey, Bumblebee!" VS-5000 called out excitedly.

[What do you want?] Bumblebee whirred; less than thrilled to see the annoying Vehicon.

"I need you to program PR-35 to obey you," VS-5000 explained.

[What!? Why would I do a thing like that?] Bumblebee asked in shock.

"Because then at least Ratchet will be able to talk to him again, even if he has amnesia," VS-5000 explained, "Besides, you get a free Vehicon. Tell me that isn't a great deal."

[That's horrible,] Bumblebee scolded him, [I would never enslave a sentient being.]

"Look, you don't get it!" VS-5000 snapped at the young scout, "A Vehicon without programming is a trapped shell of a drone! He needs this. Ratchet isn't fixing him fast enough, and PR-35 will rust before he so much as moves without orders. I can't help him. I'm just a drone. You can help him. If you want Bluestreak back, then step one is for you to go in there, look PR-35 in the visor, and tell him what his purpose in life is! Now, you go imprint on that old drone, and I'm gonna go clean the wash racks! Are you with me?"

[Calm down, buddy!] Bumblebee exclaimed, [If it's that important then fine, I'll help. I just hope this doesn't backfire on us.]

Bumblebee, against his better judgment, went into the medbay to find PR-35 sitting exactly where he was six hours ago. The drone turned his helm toward the scout, and Bumblebee felt slightly unnerved by how mechanical and lifeless the movement was. It was as if PR-35 really was just a manufactured robot.

"I am PR-35, awaiting core programming," PR-35 stated in a monotone voice.

[Okay,] Bumblebee beeped nervously, [Okay, my name is Bumblebee, and I'm going to give you your programming...]

"I am PR-35. Awaiting your orders, Lord Bumblebee," PR-35 replied.

[Oh, brother...] Bumblebee groaned; wondering why he had to be the one to do this, [Alright then. PR-35, your name is Bluestreak, and you are Ratchet's son.]

"Identify Ratchet," PR-35 requested.

[Oh right, you don't know any of us yet,] Bumblebee reminded himself sheepishly, [The medic is Ratchet. He is an ambulance-former. You are his son. Listen to him. Oh, and don't shoot any Autobots ever. Understand?]

"Understood," PR-35 nodded, "My master is Lord Ratchet and I am an Autobot sympathizer."

[Oh, boy!] Bumblebee facepalmed when he realized what he'd just done.

PR-35 stood up but made no move to leave the room. Bumblebee didn't really know what to do, so he grabbed a cube of medical grade energon and told PR-35 to refuel. PR-35, not remembering his medical training, attempted to drink from the intravenous cube and failed when he couldn't find the hole. Bumblebee facepalmed again when he saw the Vehicon clanking the cube against his face plate uselessly. Bumblebee, not knowing how to hook the cube up to the fuel line simply used his thumb to punch a hole in the cube. PR-35 drank, hated the bitter taste, but continued to drink it anyway.

Bumblebee left and hoped the new programming actually helped Ratchet, but this seemed like an uphill battle. PR-35 was like a newspark in the body of an adult. He didn't know anything about the world around him, but he could still do almost anything as long as he received instructions to do so.

* * *

Ratchet was running out of options regarding how to repair Bluestreak. He had one idea left to try, but it was the riskiest of all. He would have to force a reboot of the secondary chip inside Bluestreak's processor and then deactivate it while it was reloading the processor block. If this didn't work the only thing left to do would be to remove the chip altogether, but that could kill Bluestreak.

When Ratchet came into the medbay he was surprised to see PR-35 standing next to the berth with an engraving tool in his good servo. He seemed to be drawing on his chassis, but Ratchet didn't understand why.

"Bluestreak! What are you _doing_?" Ratchet shouted worriedly.

PR-35 turned back to look at Ratchet, and then put down the tool and stood at attention. The half-finished designed looked awfully familiar...

"Greetings, Lord Ratchet," PR-35 greeted him formally, "I am applying the Autobot sigil to my chassis to show my sympathizer stasis, sir. I await further orders."

" _Lord Ratchet?_ " Ratchet whispered to himself, but then shook his helm and said in a normal tone of voice, "Bluestreak, I need you to lay down on the berth for me. I'm going to open your helm, and I need you to stay perfectly still while I operate, okay?"

PR-35 was nervous about that. Was he a defective model? Was his master tired of him so quickly? Was he only built to be destroyed after his first orn of life? What kind of master could be so cruel? Either way, PR-35 knew he had to obey his master, so he got on the berth without complaint and silently hoped it would be over quickly. He also hoped he would survive the procedure.

Ratchet got his tools and began to slice back the armor plating on PR-35's skull. He sighed as he realized this was dangerous and was also his last chance to get his son back. He stroked his son's shoulder guard without thinking about it as a subconscious way to comfort his sparkling. Then he set to work.

The operation took several minutes, and PR-35 didn't so much as move or make a sound during the entire process. Ratchet at one point feared his son had passed out and look at his face plate to check on him, only to see the Vehicon was staring straight up at the ceiling fully conscious. Ratchet was proud of his son's discipline, but knew he needed to hurry so Bluestreak didn't have to experience the discomfort much longer.

He finally found the chip again and set to work getting it to reboot. It worked, and as the program was uploading the processor block back into his central memory core Ratchet found the connecting circuit pathway and severed it. PR-35's visor glowed for a mere second and then went back to normal. Ratchet held his intakes wondering what would happen, and a moment later PR-35 lost consciousness.

Ratchet gasped and tried to wake him up. He feared that Bluestreak might be dying right on the operating table, and Ratchet had to do something to save him! He fed an energon line into his creation's arm and began desperately applying energy to his spark through a magnetic wave pulse generator. Ratchet had to avoid getting emotional as he worked on the Vehicon, but he was having trouble keeping his composure. After all, this was his son's life in his servos. All he could do was work and hope he wasn't too late.

* * *

The replays came at him like a wave. It was like a broadcast being played on fast forward. It was a moving slideshow of the mech's entire life, a tapestry that held the code to his true identity.

...His sire fell down the stairs at the Iacon Hall of Records and had to walk with a topaz cane for three deca-orns. Bluestreak felt responsible for that, because if he hadn't been trying to show his sire a cool looking cyberhound he saw then his sire never would've stopped paying attention to where he was going and fell. Or course, his sire didn't blame him, and neither did Prowl, but Bluestreak blamed himself.

...Bluestreak was exploring a cave with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker kept complaining about the grit getting on his pristine golden paint, and Sideswipe kept making fun of him for it. When the sparklings found a dead scraplet hive in the cave Sideswipe got the brilliant idea to keep them and use them to prank the bullies, especially that blowhard Tracks that picked on the little sparklings and spread ugly rumors about Sunstreaker.

...Ratchet and Bluestreak received a postcard from Prowl in the mail. Prowl was doing fine and excelling at the police academy. Barricade got sick when he drank spiked high grade at a party, and Jazz covered for him by telling the teacher he had a tank virus. Bluestreak was so proud of his big brother. He was going to be a police officer and protect Praxus from all the bad guys.

...Bluestreak was trapped under their house after the earthquake. He didn't know what was happening, and he couldn't hear anything due to all the debris. The silence scared him, and he just wanted his big brother to come and save him. He was soon found, but by two of the meanest looking Vosians he had ever seen. The grey seeker taunted him, and the purple and black one would punch him every time he cried. He wished they would be nicer to him. If they would just help him find his brother then he would be their best friend. Didn't they know he was a good sparkling?

...He was on an conveyor belt surrounded by metallic arms and cramped in a tiny hall alone with those mechanical harbingers of doom. He knew he was going to die, and his sire would never know what happened to him. He was doused in boiling acid, and then his spark and processor were taken by the wall's arms. All he could process was the pain, until-

-He was fresh off the assembly line. This was his first orn of life, and he couldn't wait for his master to program him. He checked his nearly empty processor for a serial number. He was PR-35. His master was an imposing mech named Megatron. Oh wow! Megatron spoke to him! He was programmed as a warrior class mech. He would help destroy Lord Megatron's enemies and make a better Cybertron for the Decepticons!

...He was drinking high grade energon with SS-PLX-333. He was a good mech, but there was something off about him. He had recently been transferred to Cybertron from a mining planet with lots of organic life. The experience had obviously done something to him. SS-PLX-333 believed his designation was Hound and that he was son of the Prime. It was no surprise when SS-PLX-333 was euthanized and smelted down for parts. PR-35 would miss him, but he knew it was for the best.

...He was on the Nemesis after Breakdown died. He tried his best to avoid Knockout at first, but soon realized the red medic didn't have anyone now that his only friend was gone. PR-35 wanted to befriend the medic, but Knockout didn't want any part of it. PR-35 accepted that. He was just grateful the torturous medic didn't use him for his cruel experiments or something equally painful.

...PR-35 could smell the energon as soon as he ran out of the mine. TGP-538, is best friend, was dead. PR-35 was exposed out there alone and the Autobots could find him at any moment. He heard a noise in the cave where he had just left, and saw a small human. It could help him! He needed its power!

...He was on a mission with Chromia. She used the mask of Zeta Prime to melt a tree. He was terrified of this femme already, but now she had a super weapon! He only hoped she didn't hate him. They were soon attacked by Vehicons that thought he was a traitor. PR-35 actually got to solve the conflict without violence against his fellow Vehicons. He even recruited VS-5000. It was a great day for him.

...His helm hurt. Everything hurt. He was confused and scared. Why was his master opening his helm? He had to lay there perfectly still. His pain would be worse if he moved. He didn't know where he learned this lesson. Wait, Lord Megatron! Knockout! Starscream and Skywarp! Hound! Of course, this was how he knew! Every time he asked questions or hesitated he was punished. Every time a Vehicon dared to believe they were more than property they were killed.

It all made sense now. He could finally piece together his entire life. He was a happy sparkling with a love of adventure and a curiosity about the world. Then he was taken by the Decepticons, burned alive, and transformed into a mindless slave. He was what the humans might call a zombie. Bluestreak was a mere shell of his former self, and he never even got to know what he could've grown up to be if he had never met the insidious Decepticons.

He was only one of hundreds of thousands of victims, and they weren't even all drones. Breakdown could have been a good mech with a real future if he wasn't forced to fight in this war. Commander Starscream, egotistical as he was, could have been so much more if Megatron hadn't beaten him into scrap over and over again. SS-PLX-333... _Oh scrap_. That was Optimus' son. _Gone_. Did Megatron even know which one he was? Would it have mattered?

Bluestreak and his sire were the last survivors of Praxus. What happened to everything he ever knew? What were Prowl's final moments like? Were his friends Sideswipe and Sunstreaker still alive? Would they even remember him?

He finally knew who he was, and he had to give this gift to as many other Vehicons as possible. He had to wake up...

* * *

Ratchet continued to apply magnetic pressure to Bluestreak's spark, but it didn't seem to do anything. After 15 minutes he finally stopped. Bluestreak's vitals weren't offline yet, but he also wasn't responsive.

Ratchet sat down in a chair next to the berth and sighed as he rubbed between his optics. Finally after a long moment of silence he couldn't take it anymore, and he began to sob uncontrollably. He had failed his son. His sparkling needed him and he failed. The emotions finally overwhelmed him and he simply couldn't hide it anymore. Even the empty shell of a Vehicon was better than Bluestreak never waking up. He couldn't lose him again...

Suddenly there was a small sound in the room, like a grunt or a moan, and Ratchet stopped crying long enough to listen for it again. Another moan. Ratchet looked up to see if Bluestreak was really waking up or if he was just going crazy. He saw Bluestreak's gun arm move slightly, and saw that the Vehicon's visor was slowly coming online.

" _Bluestreak_!" Ratchet shouted joyously as he quickly got out of his chair and embraced Bluestreak in a tight hug.

"Sire..." Bluestreak croaked as his sire held on too tightly, and when Ratchet finally let go he declared, "I remember Sire, I remember who I am."

"You...you do? It worked? Ratchet asked; disbelieving for fear it was too good to be true.

"Yes Sire. I remember how I became a Vehicon, and I remember my experiences both as a sparkling as as Megatron's servant. I remember everything," Bluestreak proclaimed, but then he grew quieter as he said, "Sire, Hound is dead."

"What?" Ratchet asked; not understanding the seemingly random shift in topic.

"In my memories, there was a Vehicon that believed he was Hound," Bluestreak explained, "I realize now he _was_ Hound. He started remembering who he was, so Megatron ordered his medic Hook to kill him. This was back when Hook was the medic back in Kaon on Cybertron. I used to talk to SS-PLX-33 all the time. That was Hound's serial number. He was real nice, and was really good at killing Autob-, uh, never mind. Optimus Prime would probably rather not know that."

"It's okay son, we know the Vehicons can't help it," Ratchet said softly as he stroked his creation's servo soothingly, "Do you remember anything else that might be important?"

"Yes, Sire," Bluestreak reluctantly replied, "I remember the process they used to take our sparks and processors. Sire, I would highly suggest you prepare any future Vehicon patients about this part of the memory retrieval operation. It was the worst experience of my life. They force their victims into a tiny room with grabby arms and pour acid on them before ripping away their melting frames. Then the machines take the spark and processor. There isn't even an actual mech in the room, so there's no one to ask to stop the procedure. It's completely automated, and it was terrifying. I know everyone else went through this too, so be careful when you recover anyone else's memories to let them know they will experience this."

"I...I will," Ratchet choked out; barely able to speak.

Ratchet felt like he was going to be sick. What kind of sociopath would condone forcing anyone, let alone sparklings, into a torture chamber that literally tore them apart? He could barely contain himself knowing his son had endured such treatment, and that Megatron had condoned it all. He knew Megatron was a monster, but this was beyond even what Ratchet thought Megatron was capable of. He had felt this way when he learned about the Vehicons being former civilians, but this just added another twisted layer to what was already an atrocity.

Bluestreak fell back into recharge, and Ratchet just sat there a moment longer and watched his son rest. No matter what happened from that point on, Ratchet vowed that he was going to free as many drones as possible. The Autobots could not allow Megatron to get away with this most heinous of war crimes. There were too many good sparks locked in a logic-wiped shell, and Ratchet swore they would work together and save them.


	20. Tunnel of Love

_Author's Notes: I know this update came kind of quickly, but I was feeling super inspired to write this chapter. This chapter focuses on the ICN couple mostly. It's not very often I write pure beautiful romantic love. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last time I did was with Cosmos and Q-Boom in "Custody Battle". I might like this couple just as much or even better though. At one point when writing this chapter I did something I don't normally do when writing...I teared up a little. Don't put too much stock into that though. Maybe I just don't feel well. I dunno why, but I almost cried. Anyway, enough rambling. I hope you enjoy this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

* * *

Chapter 20

Tunnel of Love

Ratchet wasted no time after learning how to break the code of the processor blocks. He used computer simulations to replicate the process just to make sure it would work, and word spread quickly to the other Vehicons that soon they would get their old memories back and find out who they really were. Some looked forward to the revelations of their past, while others feared what the future might bring. VS-5000 was the most enthusiastic about getting his memories back, but ICN-994 thought it was all a waste of time. SS-PLX-04 and ICN-995 fell somewhere in the middle.

The main part of the base was filled with the familiar sound of guitar music that day as Miko played for an adoring audience of 3. Bulkhead was there grooving out as usual, and joining him was VS-5000 as well as 4. Miko ended on a crescendo of echoing chords, and all the mechs all cheered for the little rocker.

"What did you call that last song again?" 4 asked.

"It's a song from Slash Monkey called 'I Wanna Break Stuff'," Miko replied enthusiastically, "I don't know why, but it really speaks to me."

"Me too," Bulkhead agreed, "You get the recording, 4?"

"Sure did," 4 nodded contentedly, "This'll go great in my off-world playlist."

"You got some really cool tunes in that list," Miko commented approvingly, "I like the one that sounds like shrieking birds mixed with cow bells and tambourines."

"Oh yeah, the harvest dance music from Nebulon," 4 replied fondly, "It's good music, if you can stand the people. Those organics were a real pain in the struts."

"Didn't we kill them all?" VS-5000 asked casually.

"Yep," 4 replied nonchalantly, "Of course they would've killed each other eventually anyway. They knew how to wage war as well as any Cybertronian."

Bulkhead growled at the way they talked about organic life like it didn't matter. He didn't know who these Vehicons used to be, but at the moment all he could see was their Decepticon mindsets. He said nothing however, hoping that once they were back to themselves they wouldn't be so casual about death.

"Say Miko, can we do that thing again?" VS-5000 asked eagerly.

"What thing?" Miko replied obliviously.

"You know, the thing! The thing where we go in the ocean and attack the water?" VS-5000 elaborated.

"Oh, you mean swimming! Yeah, let's see if Raf can ground bridge us to the ocean!" Miko exclaimed excitedly, "Hey Bulk, you should invite Ironhide too. It can count as part of your therapy."

"I don't know, Miko," Bulkhead hesitated, "Do we have to bring _them_?"

"What's wrong with us?" 4 asked offendedly, "You don't wanna hang out with us just because we're Vehicons? Just remember that if you'd been captured this would be _you_ right now."

"No, I mean, I was just thinking...Miko is so small. One of you might accidentally drown her or something," Bulkhead reasoned feebly.

"Like you wouldn't, boulder butt?" VS-5000 quipped, "Face it, you don't want us and our _vile Vehicon ways_ to corrupt your precious human! Well you're not the only one that thinks Miko is awesome, and you need to get used to that!"

"Hey, come on! There's no reason to fight!" Miko tried to break up the argument between the Vehicons and Bulkhead, "We don't have to leave the base to have fun. We can play video games, or a card game. You guys like cards, right?"

"Well..." Bulkhead mulled it over, on the verge of concession.

"I like cards," VS-5000 muttered noncommittally.

"I guess we shouldn't drag Miko in on this," 4 added, "Look kid, I'm sorry we got all fired up. You gotta understand though that this bad energon goes back a long way. We've killed Autobots, and Autobots have killed us. Finding out there's no difference between us sounds great at first, but it can be a hard capsule to swallow after so many vorns of hate. Eh, enough depressing talk. Let me show you noobs how to play Kaon's Crossing."

The mechs all sat down and 4 dealt the cards. Miko had never played with cards the size of flat screen TVs before. She decided to think of it as playing with novelty cards. Of course hiding them from a cheater like VS-5000 wasn't going to be easy, so she sat close to Bulkhead and 4. After a few minutes of playing the tension was forgotten, and Miko silently hoped that it stayed that way.

* * *

Ratchet wanted ICN-995 to be the first Vehicon volunteer for the new procedure. Ratchet thought the miners' tough armor would make them better candidates for the operation since if something went wrong there would be less chance of physical damage. He was surprised however when ICN-995 showed up with his mate, INC-994.

"I only need one of you for the moment," Ratchet tried to explain.

"I'm not going without her," ICN-995 stated calmly.

"Yeah, you can do us both, right Doc?" ICN-994 asked, though it sounded more like an order.

"That is an unsafe idea," Ratchet replied firmly, "Trying to retrieve two memories at once could result in failure."

"Please try, Doctor," ICN-995 beseeched the old medic, "If I can't feel her spark when I'm under, I don't know if I'll be able to take it. PR-35 says that some of the memories will most likely be traumatic."

"And I certainly don't want to go through this without him," ICN-994 added resolutely.

Ratchet sighed in frustration. This was a complication he didn't count on and didn't need. Neither Vehicon seemed willing to budge on the issue however, and they were pretty much ganging up on him at this point.

"Fine, I'll try my best, but if something goes wrong you have only yourselves to blame," Ratchet relented.

ICN-994 and ICN-995 walked into the medbay together as Ratchet set up the work station. INC-995 pushed two berths together so that they could be close to one another during the operation. Ratchet watched as the two Vehicons climbed onto the berths and layed there holding onto each other's servos as a gesture of solidarity. He had never seen two beings so committed to each other, yet he was no longer surprised that such love came from two drones that had survived the pit together. He didn't know how they found each other, or even if they were mates before the change, but there was only one way to find out.

* * *

...Saline was brought forth by the Allspark for one purpose, to mine energon from tiny inaccessible crevices. Klunker was built from the Allspark for one purpose, to hack away and drill away at the rocks until they brought forth energon crystals.

They had known each other since they were sparklings. From the moment they could walk on their own and feed themselves they had been expected to work, and they would often work together since Saline's drill mode fit perfectly into Klunker's vehicle mode. Klunker was a big green mountain of a mech that loved to enjoy the simple pleasures of life such as refueling and chatting with friends. Saline was a dark grey and blue femme that dealt with scrap every day because she was short and looked nonthreatening even in her adult frame. This made her bitter toward most and hard to work with.

Klunker saw past her temper, though. He saw that Saline was a very nurturing femme that would nurse injured animals back to health in her spare time and loved to make her living space beautiful, even if it had no real reason to be. She was a perfectionist and a bossy nag, but she was also passionate and strong-willed. Klunker had always considered her a friend, but then one orn he realized that he considered her much more than that. The feeling was sudden, but it stayed rooted to his spark like a stalagmite. He was in love.

One orn Saline was drilling out a deposit of copper from the mountain. It wasn't their main source of income, but she would pull out any mineral she could get. Klunker approached her and she smiled up at him, assuming he was there for work as well. When he just stood there awkwardly though, she realized something was on his processor.

"Hey Klunker, you're gonna rust just standing there like that!" Saline shouted up at him, "The formech gave us a new quota. We need to mine 60 more tons if we're gonna make enough to stay on the payroll for this mine. Don't wanna have to transfer to another mine. Most of the ones outside Iacon have terrible safety regulations."

"Saline, I've been thinking about something for a while," Klunker said with the confidence of a mech that had been preparing for a long time, "We should get bonded."

Saline suddenly stopped drilling and inched her helm around to stare at Klunker in shock and befuddlement.

" _Bonded_? Where did _that_ come from?" Saline asked in surprise, "We've never even been on a date before, you lugnut!"

"I know, but I love you," Klunker shrugged as if they were discussing which area to dig instead of their entire future, "We're good together, I love you, and I think you love me too. Why shouldn't we get bonded?"

"Klunker, that is the craziest thing you have ever said in your entire life," Saline stated slowly and flatly, but then with a growing smile she said, "I love it."

* * *

...Bulkhead was leaving. It was a moment of joy and a moment of sadness. Klunker and Saline prepared a small package of energon and tools for their son that he could use at his job working construction within the city limits of Iacon.

"Do you think he would notice if I hid in the box with his stuff?" Saline joked as Klunker added the last item before closing the lid.

"Now sweet spark, he's getting too old for you to watch his every move," Klunker laughed as he held out his hand for his mate to climb onto.

Saline hopped onto her spark mate's awaiting servo, and he lifted her up to his shoulder so she could ride there like she always did. She hugged his neck cables and picked away some of the rust that was falling into the crevices so he wouldn't get an infection. She was always doting on Klunker and Bulkhead, whereas Klunker had a more laid back style to life that allowed Bulkhead to explore and Saline to fuss about unimpeded.

"I'm going to miss him," Saline said in a rare moment of subdued sincerity, "But I know this is for the best. He did it, Klunk. He made it out of the mines and now he's going to spend his life in the sunshine."

"I know. He made it," Klunker smiled fondly, "I just hope our boy doesn't forget us when he's erecting mighty golden towers and hobnobbing with the beautiful people. It's a great orn to be alive, I tell you what."

"Do you think we packed enough energon?" Saline asked worriedly, "Maybe I should grab that other cube in our cupboard."

"That's our last cube, sweet spark," Klunker reminded her, "We need something for ourselves until payday. The mines have been pretty barren lately, you know."

"I know, but I worry about him," Saline lamented as she leaned into her bonded's face plate.

"Don't worry, Saline. He's going to do better than we ever did," Klunker reminded her, "You know laborers get paid a guaranteed wage. Not to mention living so close to the city means he doesn't spend as much fuel going to the store."

"Yeah, you're right," Saline nodded, "Thanks, Klunk."

* * *

...Everything in the city was burning. Iacon's inner city was _burning_ , and soon the entire city-state would be consumed in flames. Klunker couldn't believe what he was seeing. Soon the Decepticons would be coming for them.

Many of the miners celebrated the arrival of the Decepticons. They believed Megatron's forces to be their saviors; their chance to join the cause of liberation. Klunker knew better though. He was old and completely covered in rust. His bond mate was old and ridiculously short. They would be considered useless to the Decepticons because they believed the strong should dominate the weak. He and his beloved were going to die for the unforgivable sin of being too imperfect.

He ran deep into the cavern where he remembered Saline was working that orn. There wasn't much time, and he had to find her before it was too late. He found her leaning next to the rock wall with her servo over her helm. It was clear she was still trying to comm Bulkhead. She stopped trying a moment later and looked up at her bonded with weary optics.

"Anything?" Klunker asked worriedly.

"No, Klunker. It's still just static," Saline bemoaned, "What if he was trapped in the fire? What if he tried to fight the Decepticons and was killed? What if he tries to come here? Our mechling is in danger!"

"We're in danger," Klunker reminded her, "Bulkhead is a tough mech. He will survive. He has your fighting spirit and my muscle, so what can possibly go wrong?"

"How long until they get here?" Saline asked in dread; speaking of the Decepticons.

"Another joor, tops," Klunker delivered the grim report, "Seekers are already flying over Iacon. They travel much faster than ground based mechs. They will probably claim the mine and use their drones to excavate it instead of us."

"I hate those drones," Saline spat, "They're so creepy with their unmoving visors and identical frames. Automation is killing us! Isn't this what that blowhard Megatron fought against in the first place? Talk about hypocrisy!"

They suddenly heard a quaking noise from off in the distance, and Klunker knew it was the first wave of troops landing outside the mine's entrance.

"Saline, there's no hope for me, but you can still get away," Klunker told her desperately, "Just drill a tiny pathway in the ground, and they'll never find you. Even if they find you they'll never be able to get to you. Go on now, dear! While there's still time!"

Saline stared up at Klunker with firm resolute optics, and then she walked up to him and hugged his leg.

"You think I'll really abandon you now, Klunk?" Saline asked softly, "I'm not going anywhere."

"You have to!" Klunker shouted, "You can still save yourself!"

"No, I can't," Saline replied ruefully, "Why save only half of me? Face it love, we're in the crossfire. The Decepticons will destroy everything until there is nothing left, and we're stuck in the middle. If we're going to die, then we should die together. Nothing will separate me from you, Klunker. Nothing."

When Saline looked back up at him with her bright blue optics, he saw something he thought he would never see from her; cleaning fluid. She was crying. She never cried. That was when Klunker knew it really was over.

He held out his servo for her to climb on, and she stepped onto his servo and then onto his shoulder like always. She held onto his neck cables and picked away the rust that had accumulated in the crevices. If Klunker closed his optics he could almost pretend it was just another orn, but he knew it wasn't.

"You shouldn't be comforting me, Saline," Klunker lamented, "I should be comforting you."

"You already are," Saline whispered as she layed down on his shoulder guard and stroked his frame lovingly.

He placed a servo gently on her back and sat down. They knew the Decepticons would find them soon and then they would probably be executed. He wished he could save her, but he knew she was too stubborn to leave his side. Nothing could separate them...not even death.

* * *

...The pain was intense through their spark bond. The Decepticons had taken Saline first, and Klunker could feel the pain she was experiencing through their bond. Whatever was in the room beyond him, it was killing her.

"Open this door you slag heaps!" Klunker roared as he banged on the door he had come through, "Stop it! You're killing her! I'll scrap every one of you if you don't get her out of there right now! _Saline_!"

The pain stopped after a few moments, and Klunker felt for her spark. Just then the conveyor belt thrust him into the room where Saline had been taken, and it was filled with mechanical arms and no space for a big mech like him to move around in. Worse yet, she wasn't in here. He kept searching for Saline's spark signature, and then the floor abruptly stopped.

Acid fell from the ceiling onto his frame, and he cried out in pain. Still he searched, and then he found it. The signature was faint, but he could still feel the spark of his bonded. His frame fell apart piece by piece, but even as his jaw melted away he smiled. They hadn't gotten to Saline. She still lived, and that was all that mattered to Klunker in that moment. He could still find comfort in their bond.

Then the arms came for his plating, and they grabbed for his processor and spark. Then the world went dark.

* * *

Ratchet revived ICN-995 from sedation first. He just hoped the procedure worked and that nothing had been damaged. He brought the Vehicon online, and the visor blinked briefly. Ratchet was worried, because last time that happened Bluestreak passed out. He hoped he hadn't damaged the drones in any way.

"ICN-995, are you functional?" Ratchet asked, "Do you think you can transform?"

"Uh...Saline..." ICN-995 groaned drowsily; barely online.

"Saline? Is that someone you knew on Cybertron?" Ratchet asked hopefully.

"My mate. _Her_ ," ICN-995 explained as he held his mate's servo tighter, "Her name is Saline, and my name is Klunker. We were mine workers...outside of Iacon."

"Klunker, do you remember if you have any other relatives?" Ratchet asked, "Maybe we can find them."

"No need, sir," Klunker replied knowingly, "My son is already here. Bulkhead is our only creation, and he is already here."

Ratchet's optics went wide as saucers upon hearing that. _Bulkhead's parents_? First they find his son and then they find Bulkhead's parents? It seemed too good to be true.

ICN-994 woke up with a start, and ICN-995 held onto her to keep her calm.

" _Holy pit!_ Was that real?" ICN-994 asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it was real...Saline," Klunker told her lovingly, "We know our names now. We're real again, my love."

"Oh, Klunker!" Saline exclaimed emotionally as she grabbed onto her bond mate's chassis and wrapped him in a tight hug, "We did it. We stayed together. Oh pit, I remember what it felt like to interface now! These Vehicon bodies suck."

Klunker and Ratchet both laughed, Ratchet laughing mostly out of relief for saving his patients and Klunker laughing because he understood her pain. Once again the operation to save Vehicons' minds was successful, and Ratchet couldn't wait to reintroduce Bulkhead to his parents.

When Ratchet and the ICN couple made it to the main room they saw Bulkhead playing cards with Miko, Jack, Raf, VS-5000, 4, and Ironhide. They appeared to be playing for candy, and Raf appeared to be winning most of the pot.

"Those are some tiny cards," Klunker commented.

"We're playing Uno," VS-5000 explained, "Raf is really good at this game, and I'm pretty sure he's cheating."

"I'm not cheating!" Ran replied defensively for what sounded like the hundredth time, "I told you, I just know when to play wild cards and when not to. You always play them right away, and there's no strategy in that."

"But wild cards are the fun part!" VS-5000 whined, "I mean, if you had Megatron's fusion cannon would you _not_ fire it?"

"Um, I'm going to go with yes," Raf replied hesitantly.

"Enough with the card game!" Ratchet shouted; no longer able to take the suspense, "Bulkhead, there's something really important I need to tell you."

"Oh for pit's sake, I'm doing my exercises, Ratchet!" Bulkhead groaned impatiently, "I don't even see how those are supposed to help anyway."

"Yeah, and what's with the reduced energon rations?" Ironhide added grumpily, "We got injured by touchin' tox-en, not by eatin' it!"

Ratchet huffed in annoyance at the two overgrown sparklings complaining about their physical therapy. He wondered how two mechs that were so old could be so immature.

"No, Bulkhead. I wasn't going to talk about that," Ratchet tried again, his voice strained from irritation, "We found out who these two Vehicons are, and I think you might be interested."

"Oh yeah? Anyone we know?" Bulkhead asked, his curiosity piqued now.

"Oh I don't know, do you happen to know... _your parents_?" Ratchet asked cheekily, now grinning from audial to audial.

Bulkhead's jaw dropped and his optics widened in temporary shock.

"My...My what now?" Bulkhead asked; not quite believing what he was hearing.

"You mean Bulk's parents are alive?" Miko asked more coherently than her big green friend, " _Woohoo_! Bulkhead, they're alive! They're alive! Well say something, Bulk!"

"I like this one," Saline commented quietly to Klunker, "She's lively."

"Carrier? Sire? Is Ratchet telling the truth? Is it really you?" Bulkhead asked uncertainly.

"When you were 6 vorns old you were bitten by a scraplet," Saline told him to prove she was his carrier, "Your sire killed it with an industrial drill and I used the plating from it to make a laser proof casing for your chassis."

"I remember, it itched like the pit," Bulkhead muttered as he subconsciously scratched his chest, "Wait, _Carrier_! It _is_ you!"

Bulkhead struggled to stand up and then slowly shuffled over to where his Vehicon parents were standing. He embraced them both in a hug, and they both hugged him back. None of them knew what the future held, but for that moment life was good and it seemed like it was going to keep getting even better.


	21. Police Academy

_Author's Notes: I'm sorry this update took so long. I guess this chapter is what you could call "overwritten". I honestly could've kept going with the plot line in this chapter, but then it would've been super long, so I had to make myself not use every last little idea I had for it. This chapter is the one where 4 gets his memories back, and while I doubt his identity is a surprise to anyone at this point, I hope the back story I gave in this segment is at least interesting. Anyway, a big thanks to everyone for your patience, and please enjoy the latest chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

* * *

Chapter 21

Police Academy

With the success of Bluestreak, Klunker, and Saline all getting their memories back the base was full of joy and talk of what the future would hold for the Vehicons. 4 and VS-5000 were both starting to get excited for the prospect of finding out which Autobots they used to be.

"I can't quite figure out the pattern though," 4 told VS-5000 and the human children when they were discussing it, "Bluestreak was a civilian, yet he was turned into a soldier. He told us about that Hound mech being a Vehicon warrior, and that guy was an Autobot scout like Bumblebee."

"His brother, actually," Jack reminded them.

"Yeah, his brother," 4 replied solemnly, "My point is I don't know if VS-5000 and I will be civilians or soldiers. What if we had relatives that died during the war? I'm not sure I wanna know that."

"Maybe Megatron forced us to kill our own families," VS-5000 theorized, "Or maybe they're still looking for us. Frankly I'm more concerned with what kind of family members we'll find. I mean, the miners got a Wrecker for a son, but Bluestreak got a crotchety old mech for a sire. What if I get like a crazy uncle or something?"

"What if I'm bonded?" 4 suddenly realized, "What if she found someone else while I was gone? How would I even explain this to my hypothetical family? Hi Carrier, hi Sire, hi children and bond mate, I'm a Vehicon now. Who wants a hug?"

"Don't feel too bad. I mean, you didn't know any better back then," Raf reminded 4.

"We're not sparklings, kid," 4 retorted, "I know what I did. I shot mechs right between the optics because I believed they would destroy everything I was built to protect. I know I fought for the wrong side, but I thought I was an unsung hero. I did my job well and protected my fellow Vehicons and the Decepticon officers that accompanied us. I'm not gonna apologize for that. All I can do is start over and hope I got it right this time."

"Maybe I have an evil twin…" VS-5000 mused, "Maybe he was sleeping with my bond mate and I used the photos to blackmail him into opening an illegal casino, but then my bond mate cheated on me with the slot machine and I murdered them both in a jealous rage and then faked my own death."

"Dude, you've been watching too many telenovelas," Miko chuckled, "Don't worry about it, Alfred. Everything's gonna be alright, you'll see."

" _Alfred_?" Jack interjected, "Who's Alfred?"

"He's Alfred," Miko said as she pointed to VS-5000, "That's what he wanted me to call him."

"Yeah, I figure I wanted to be named after the coolest butler in earth's culture," VS-5000 explained, "Besides, I can give the name up if I like my old name better. If I don't then I can keep the name Alfred."

Their conversation was interrupted when Bluestreak came in from the medbay and motioned for a Vehicon to step forward for their memory recovery operation.

"The medic will see you now," Bluestreak called out to the others.

"Which one of us should go first?" VS-5000 whispered.

"I wanna go," 4 volunteered, "I can't wait to find out what's waiting for me. I just hope I can handle it."

4 then bravely stepped into the medbay with Bluestreak, leaving the others to talk among themselves. At first no one said anything, feeling like some of the energy in their discussion left with 4.

"Alfred?" Raf finally piped up, "What if you're related to a member of Team Prime too?"

"After Bluestreak and Bulkhead's parents showed up?" VS-5000 scoffed, "Come on, kid! Twice is already too much of a coincidence. At best I'm probably related to a dead Autobot like Seaspray or Cliffjumper. Ooh, wait. Arcee didn't hear that, did she?"

"Don't worry. She's in the training room," Jack assured him, "Hey Alfred, what if _you're_ the evil twin?"

VS-5000 gasped dramatically and shouted " _I never even thought of that_!"

* * *

Ratchet hooked 4 up to the energon drip and pried away the plating from his helm. Just like Bluestreak before him, he didn't take his visor's focus away from the ceiling. Ratchet wondered if it was due to training or a programmed response that the Vehicons didn't exhibit physical signs of pain during surgery. Ratchet wished he could just put his patient under, but he needed to monitor the processor activity.

Ratchet rebooted the processor block and then shut it down while it was trying to reload. 4 was still technically conscious, but his processor was a galaxy away...

* * *

...He was in! He got into the police academy and was going to make Polyhex a better place to live when he graduated. This was the best orn of his young life.

Some of Jazz's neighborhood friends thought he was wasting his time. To be fair, despite growing up in one of the poorest areas of Polyhex Jazz had always had ambitions. He worked hard, studied hard, and partied hard. Jazz never did anything halfway. He was a youngling with energy and drive, and he knew that deep down his neighbors were just jealous that he was actually going places.

Jazz drove for 3 straight orns to get to Iacon. When he got to the police academy he wiped down his frame to make sure the dust from the road didn't make him look like an urchin. After all, a mech only got one shot at a first impression, and Jazz wanted everyone to know he had style and was ready for anything.

He went up to the main desk of the academy and registered. He drummed his fingers lightly on the desk, and the receptionist gave him a dirty look for disturbing her while she was working. He sheepishly stopped drumming his fingers on the counter and stood there trying not to broadcast his boredom too loudly.

"Hm, Jazz...According to this you're in dorm 83," The receptionist told him in a cold disinterested voice, "You have two roommates named Barricade and Prowl. Curfew is at 47:00 and the refueling station is open until 33:00. Have a nice vorn at the academy."

She didn't sound like she meant that, but Jazz just smiled and shook his helm before taking the data pad with the map she handed him and going on his way. He figured why let the sour mood spread when a smile and a stride could brighten up the orn? He walked for about 10 breems before he found the room he was looking for, and the door had red and black tape going across it that read 'Caution: Not My Orn To Care'.

"Well, at least my roomies have some personality to them," Jazz commented to himself before using the keycard to unlock the door.

When he opened the door he was immediately greeted by the sight of a spiky looking black and silver mech sitting on the edge of a berth and tightening a bolt in his ankle joint. This mech was obviously a citizen of Kaon judging from his intense looking armor and red optics.

"Hey mech," Jazz called out to get the fellow car-former's attention, and he looked back at Jazz with a bored expression, "My name's Jazz, and I'll be roomin' here for the semester. Are you Prowl or Barricade?"

"Barricade," The titular mech replied, "The berth next to the window is yours. Prowl insists on having the one next to the wall in the corner. There's some textbooks under the berth from the last guy who stayed here with us. He didn't last long."

" _Last long_?" Jazz repeated skeptically, "You make it sound like prison."

"Close enough," Barricade shrugged, "The regimen here is pretty strict, and of course there's our _dear_ roommate Prowl. Trust me on this one Jazz, the less you have to see him the better."

"That bad, huh?" Jazz asked with a raised optic ridge.

"I just try to stay out of his way," Barricade replied, "It's not that Prowl's that tough or anything, but he's got more rules to follow than the instructors. Nothing's ever right for him, and nobody can do a better job than him. You wanna have fun? Do it away from here. Fun to Prowl is like sunlight on a driller's face plate. He hates it and acts like anyone that displays happiness is committing some sort of grand offense."

"Thanks for the warnin', Barricade," Jazz replied gratefully, "I'll keep that in mind. So, you doing anythin' later? I'd like to check out some of the more colorful parts of Iacon."

"I can introduce you to some of the femmes attending the academy, and maybe show you the lob ball stadium where the Iacon Prospectors play," Barricade suggested, "There's also a dive bar a few blocks from campus where cops usually hang out at the end of the orn. It's a good place to get some real life experience."

"Sounds cool," Jazz nodded approvingly, "I think you and I are gonna get along just fine."

Jazz then started to remove items from his subspace to decorate his part of the room. He was glad he got to be next to the window so he could see the big wide world out there. He knew he probably wouldn't spend much time in this room though, since Iacon was a big bustling city with so much to do. He was also looking forward to his classes so he could learn how to take down bad guys, negotiate tense situations, and sneak around to surprise perps before arresting them. Yeah, everything was going to be great.

Jazz set up a worn out storage box full of data pads, a small black table with a wobbly leg, a poster of his favorite band, and on the table he placed his speaker system. It was a state of the art sound system that had taken Jazz months to save up for, but it was worth it since it delivered the crispest sound on Cybertron.

Barricade left a few minutes later, which Jazz barely noticed since he was busy making his little piece of the room feel like home. When he heard light pede steps coming back in he just assumed it was Barricade coming back.

"Hey mech, I was just thinkin' about that bar you were talkin' about," Jazz said without turning around, "I think a cop bar is cool and all, but I'm not sure they'd sell the best high grade. You know where they sell the harder stuff?"

"No, I cannot say that I do," an unfamiliar voice said stiffly from behind Jazz.

Jazz swiftly turned around and found himself face to face with a very displeased looking black and white Praxian holding a data pad and tapping his pede in admonition. Jazz could only assume the obvious.

"So, you must be Prowl," Jazz stated rather than asked, "The designation's Jazz. I'm your new roommate."

"Of course you are," Prowl replied in flat critical tone, "Just be sure to keep your part of the room clean and free of debris. I also expect you to adhere to curfew and be back here by 45:00 every night so you don't disturb anyone while coming home."

"But the curfew is at 47:00!" Jazz protested.

"Not in here," Prowl replied sternly, "Also, you should probably fix that table so your speaker doesn't fall on the floor and break. I also expect you to keep the noise level at such a volume so as not to disturb our neighbors."

"Fine," Jazz muttered; starting to understand what Barricade was talking about.

"Obstacle training is in two joors," Prowl told him, "Please be punctual as your performance reflects on myself and Barricade as well. Also I will need you to remove that poster from the wall."

" _Excuse you_?" Jazz asked rudely; offended at being treated like a sparkling.

"Posters are against student code of conduct regulations," Prowl stated dispassionately, "As a future member of the police force I would expect you to be familiar with school policy. You have 5 joors to take it down or else I will have to remove it myself. I need to leave for study group with Darkstar and Chase. By the way, welcome to the academy Jazz."

Prowl then turned on his heel and left Jazz feeling angry and patronized. That self-righteous Praxian had some nerve to come into their shared dorm and pretend like he ran things. Jazz wasn't going to take this kind of treatment lying down. Oh no, if Prowl thought a poster was trouble just wait until the Jazz Meister was through with him...

* * *

...This prank war had been going on for deca-orns. Jazz and Barricade were both tired of Prowl's constant rules and regulations, and they were finally doing something about it.

It had started with Prowl ripping Jazz's poster off the wall and telling him that no self respecting cop disregarded rules the way he did. Jazz retaliated by playing his music all joors of the night, which meant Prowl couldn't recharge properly. This affected Barricade as well, but he liked Jazz's style of music so he didn't mind.

Prowl retaliated by going to the campus arbitrator, who then locked Jazz's speakers in a closet in the back room and was told he could have it back at the end of the semester. Jazz was livid at this point, so he hired movers to get rid of Prowl's berth while they were all in class.

Prowl went into his room to find the berth missing, and Jazz and Barricade acted innocent about the whole thing even though they had planned it together. Neither would snitch on the other though.

"So, neither of you know who stole my berth?" Prowl asked with a surprising amount of calm.

"Nope," Jazz said with a smirk that he just couldn't hide.

"I see," Prowl replied skeptically, "I'm sure this will be a great story to tell your future offspring. It will go great along with the story about how you dropped out of the police academy and later got arrested for breaking and entering."

Jazz's engine rumbled angrily, and Barricade gently pulled him away from Prowl to keep him from doing something he would later regret. When they went out in the hall Jazz finally exploded.

"That isn't fair!" Jazz shouted, "We got him good! How is it he takes away my victory and tries to make me look like the bad guy?"

"He doesn't get it, Jazz," Barricade consoled him, "You and me, we've seen some slag in our lives. Polyhex and Kaon are the places that really need mechs like us on the inside to help the poor, the low caste, and those that would only have a gun barrel to look forward to without us. Prowl on the other servo, he's from Praxus. That city is a trim of gold on Iacon's frame. They get all the good stuff from being close to Iacon without any of the social problems that face a city this big."

"So what?" Jazz asked; still not calm but at least not as cross as before.

"So he's _spoiled_ ," Barricade spelled it out for him, "Prowl is what the council is looking for in a cop. He's obedient to the system, doesn't care about the real lives he ruins, and is ruthlessly efficient. Don't worry Jazz, you'll never be like him."

* * *

...This was so awkward. The end of the semester was at hand, and that meant the students all got their photo taken together as a group. It wasn't graduation, but it was still a celebration of the cadets that had made it this long.

The awkward part for Jazz came when he saw the assigned positions for the photo. Because he and Prowl were the same height he had to stand right next to that Praxian Pit Spawn and pretend he wasn't uncomfortable. He had finally stopped trying to prank Prowl into leaving their dorm, and Prowl seemed to be content to ignore him, but they still hated each other's struts.

The students milled around waiting for the photographer to arrive, and Jazz looked for Barricade, Trailbreaker, or someone else he knew and liked. He didn't see anyone he wanted to talk to in the crowd of happy students, but then he was tapped on the shoulder guard and he thought his boredom was over. No such luck...

"Hey, Prowler," Jazz greeted him sourly.

"I told you I am not comfortable with that nickname," Prowl replied irritably, "I only came over here to say you have a smudge on your helmet."

"So?" Jazz asked challengingly.

"Fine, if you don't want to look presentable in your own end of semester photo I can't stop you," Prowl replied in exasperation, "Frankly I'm getting tired of trying to turn you into graduate material. You disregard every statute and soil every tradition. I'm done, Jazz. If you want to throw away your future that's none of my concern."

"Throw away my future?" Jazz scoffed, "Just because I like loud music and hangin' out with friends doesn't mean I'm not tryin'. I study hard and I pass my tests. When I go back to Polyhex it'll be with a degree in my subspace and my helm held high. You can't make me ashamed of who I am."

"I've seen your grades. You won't pass," Prowl stated matter-of-factly, "You may say you study, but I live with you. I know where your time really goes. Not only that, but I've seen other cadets just like you. You think this is a game, Jazz? People's lives depend on the kind of job we do out there. If you got this job you would be given a license to carry a laser rifle, an electric staff, and stasis cuffs. You would be given the kind of power that can go to a mech's processor, and frankly the idea of someone like you with that kind of power terrifies me."

"Why, because I'm Polyhexian?" Jazz accused harshly.

"No, because you don't know what you're doing," Prowl replied stonily, "Do you know why I had to remove the poster, called the arbitrator to collect your stereo, and go out of my way to criticize your every move?"

"Because you hate my struts," Jazz snorted.

"No, because you are desperate to have people like you," Prowl replied, "If you're going to be a police officer, then you have to understand that the people you run into will not be your friends or your new drinking buddies. They will fear you, they will hate you, and they will often refuse to cooperate with you. Mechs like me making it harder for you to do your job will become the new normal. Are you ready for that? Do you want this badly enough? Can you handle a lifetime of mechs like me?"

"You don't know anythin'!" Jazz snapped bitingly, "What has life ever done to you? You think I don't know what adversity feels like? My old friends turned their backs on me when they found out I wanted to become an enforcer. Cops are seen as the council's personal thugs. They don't see the other side of it. My uncle Squarepeg was murdered when I was a younglin', and _nobody_ investigated it. You know why? Because he worked as a window washer! Yeah, he was a low caste mech and the enforcers didn't want to waste their resources on a mech with so little importance to society. I grew up realizin' that we the people of Polyhex were on our own. I don't want that to be the system we live in, and it starts at the bottom. I have to go back to Polyhex as a cop, and I have to be there for those that deserve justice, because if I don't then no one else will."

Prowl didn't interrupt as Jazz spoke, but he didn't show any emotion either. Jazz was sure he wasn't getting through to the Praxian, but then-

"Meet me at the stadium at 50:00 tonight," Prowl ordered.

"After curfew?" Jazz asked mischievously.

"It is necessary that we are not interrupted," Prowl explained as if that excused everything, "I'm going to train you in the areas where you are currently failing. I believe we can get your grades up, and more importantly I think you can learn the techniques you need to know to work effectively in your home city-state."

Jazz was skeptical of Prowl's motives, but then again out of all the negative things he could say about Prowl he couldn't say Prowl was a liar. Jazz nodded curtly and then walked over to the lawn where the photo was soon to be taken. Prowl walked over and stood next to Jazz, and despite the tension between them they both managed to smile for their picture.

* * *

..."What is this song called again?" Prowl asked as he eyed the music chip curiously.

"One shot," Jazz replied jovially, "It's about the dangers of high grade addiction. You know, since that's an issue you care about."

At first Prowl was offended, but then he realized Jazz was being sincere and not sarcastic. He smiled slightly and sat down on his berth while Jazz turned on his speakers. The song that played was rough sounding and had a heavy bassline. He wasn't used to Polyhexian music and normally didn't like it, but the more Prowl listened the more he appreciated the lyrics and the beat.

Over the past few deca-orns Prowl had been training Jazz in strategy techniques and crisis prevention methods. Jazz's grades were slowly improving, and to thank Prowl for his help Jazz would even sometimes invite the Praxian to chill with him at a bar or a party off campus. Prowl felt uncomfortable at these places due to social awkwardness and a feeling that everyone was misbehaving in some way, but at the same time he also began to feel more accepted thanks to Jazz's natural ability to make everyone feel at ease.

In time even Barricade decided Prowl wasn't as horrible as they first thought. The three roommates soon became an inseparable trio, and it benefited all involved. Jazz felt more prepared for the job he would soon have, Prowl felt like he understood his peers better, and Barricade learned to let go of old grudges.

The song stopped playing, and Jazz put on a softer tune from Ibex. He looked over his manual that taught different holds and defensive moves in case of a difficult arrest while Prowl wrote something out on one of his blank data pads.

"Hey Prowler, what's it like in Praxus?" Jazz suddenly asked, "I've told you all about Polyhex, but you've never told me anythin' about your home. What's it like?"

"Praxus is not nearly as interesting as Polyhex," Prowl replied stoically, "I would say your family is more interesting than mine as well."

"What? Just because my sire heard voices that told him to drink high grade until his optics crossed?" Jazz chuckled, "That's not interestin', that's depressin'."

"And yet you are not depressed," Prowl noted, "I don't know how you do it, Jazz. You go through life with a smile and a hopeful outlook despite the injustice and grief you see around you. How do you do that?"

"I don't know. I just do," Jazz shrugged, "I mean sure, there's some bad scrap that goes on, and the council makes our lives miserable, but there's a lot of good stuff too. I remember when I was 7 vorns old and my neighborhood had an energon crisis because the filtration lines were corrupted with grit from the Sea of Rust. Mechs and femmes were starvin', and we weren't sure where our next meal was gonna come from. Well my neighbor, a friendly older mech named Night Jam, took some of the corrupted energon and mixed it with this green powder that he was sure would make it safe to drink. He was a retired chemist and knew a little somethin' about that kind of stuff. I still remember the goofy look on his face plate when he tried to drink it! Haha! He looked like he'd just put a live turbo rat in his mouth! Stuff worked though, and his quick thinkin' saved the neighborhood."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Prowl replied, "Your entire area nearly starved because it took government workers too long to repair a problem that would've only taken a few joors and some basic tools to fix. How can you be so happy about that?"

"Because we didn't die, and because I knew we could count on each other," Jazz explained, "That's the thing. A system might fail, but a community won't if they stick together. I had my sire, my uncle, my extended family, my neighbors, and my friends. They might not understand why I'm doin' this, but I'm gonna play a role in my community that doesn't exist yet. I'm gonna be there to take down the crooks and help those that are defenseless. I'm gonna be an advocate for my people."

"You're going to be a police officer, not a super-powered lawyer," Prowl snarked in a dry tone of voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Jazz waved away his cynicism, "Anyway you still didn't tell me about your family. What are they like?"

"Well, for starters I was the first creation my sire got from the Allspark," Prowl told him, "Several vorns later my little brother Bluestreak was sparked. My sire is a medic that works in Iacon but lives in Praxus. Most Praxians with any means simply commute to work rather than work in the small city-state. My school was normal, my family is normal, and there really isn't anything interesting about us."

"Sounds cool," Jazz replied with an easy smile, "I'm from the Allspark too. My sire thought new codin' was better for the genetic strength of Cybertron than merge sparkin'. He had some funny ideas about merge sparks. Truth be told though, my sire was just a little off in the processor in general. He thought if he ever bonded with a femme she would suck out his spark and replace it with an exact replica."

"That...makes no sense," Prowl commented; unsure of how to respond to that.

"Nothin' he said made sense," Jazz laughed, "I just learned to live with it. He was crazy, but harmless. I miss him."

Prowl had never been told how exactly Jazz's sire died, and he never asked. Jazz wasn't offended though. He knew Prowl was a very private mech and just extended that same privacy to those he cared about. Jazz was actually grateful for that. It was hard to tell someone something like that, and Jazz wasn't ready yet.

* * *

...This was the first time Jazz had ever met Prowl's sire. He wished it was under better circumstances. Jazz and Barricade came with Prowl to a vigil that was being held for the lost city of Praxus. Such a tragedy had never before occurred in Cybertron's history, and it was strange that it happened to a suburban town like Praxus.

Jazz had feared Prowl had died when he heard on the news about Praxus being destroyed. Seeing the city dashed and covered in flames on the TV screen had sent Jazz into shock, and then into panic. He comm'ed Prowl over and over again, but there was a dampening field over the city. How could the Decepticons afford a dampening field? Jazz realized then that this so-called fringe group was a lot more organized than anyone was willing to admit publicly.

It wasn't until the next orn that Jazz learned anything about Prowl's condition. Just as Jazz feared, Prowl had indeed gone to Praxus for his vacation. He had managed to survive the onslaught and drove all the way back to Iacon with nothing to keep him alive but his tires and his wits. He reported that the devastation was even worse than what the media was reporting. There was nothing left of the city.

Now Jazz stood next to his two best friends and a medic that he didn't even know. Ratchet turned out to be a very nice if somewhat abrupt mech. Jazz could see where Prowl got his authoritative attitude. They stood by the mass grave of all the Praxians that were killed by the Decepticons. Among those missing and presumed dead was Prowl's own sparkling brother; Bluestreak...

* * *

...This could not be happening! After working together on the New Polyhex Space Station for vorns this just couldn't be happening, and yet Jazz had seen it with his own optics.

Prowl was dead.

He had been murdered in cold energon.

Jazz saw the killing on a security monitor several orns after the fact, but he had been there for the chaotic prelude to his best friend's demise. He didn't think he would ever forget that horrible day.

The Decepticons had forced their way into the station, and dozens of Autobots young and old scrambled to defend the structure. Prowl calculated which strategies would win them the battle, and came to a grim conclusion. The Decepticons' numbers and weaponry was too much for them. They would have to abandon the station.

Jazz and Prowl had both coordinated the escape on opposite sides of the station. Jazz had rushed civilians and soldiers alike into pods and small ships. A few shuttle-formers had managed to carry a few passengers as well. The Decepticons were nowhere near Jazz's side of the station, so it seemed like the escape would be completed before Megatron's forces got there. Oh, how wrong he was. Things went well for his side, but not the other side of New Polyhex.

After the escape Jazz regrouped with the senior staff on Moon Base 16 near an unnamed planet made mostly of silica and iron. He saw that most of the other residents of their former space station were there, still alive, but he didn't see the one face plate he was looking for: Prowl's.

Jazz looked around the mess hall for someone who might know something, and came across Bumblebee looking forlorn and lost. Maybe he knew what happened. He just hoped that look didn't have anything to do with Prowl.

"Hey, Bumblebee my mech!" Jazz tried to sound jovial, but the strain still came through in his tone, "How're you holdin' up?"

[I saw it...] Bumblebee whirred mournfully, [...the Decepticons captured my brother. They got Hound! They even smashed his sparkling to pieces! We've got to find those monsters and get Hound back!]

"Don't worry younglin', we will," Jazz assured him, though he wasn't sure how they would do that yet, "Have you seen Prowl?"

[Prowl saved our lives,] Bumblebee told him with wide traumatized blue optics, [The seekers were coming for us on all sides, but Prowl kept everyone focused and ushered us all into the escape pods. Hot Rod had a limp, so Prowl waited for him to hobble over to the shuttle. When Thundercracker and Skywarp cornered them...Prowl shoved Hot Rod into our shuttle and pressed the button to jettison us into space! Prowl stayed behind, Jazz! _He stayed behind_!]

Bumblebee was wailing now, and Jazz sunk lower into his chair. It was orns later before Jazz felt prepared to look at the footage. He saw that it was Thundercracker that pulled the trigger, and Jazz knew then that Starscream's trine had to be stopped once and for all...

* * *

...SS-PLX-04 awoke on the medical berth with a splitting helmache. Ratchet hovered over his patient to see if he was alright. 4 looked up at him and gave him a thumbs up, indicating the operation was a success.

"How do you feel?" Ratchet asked immediately.

"Like I got run over by Optimus," Jazz replied half-jokingly.

"Do you think you can transform?" Ratchet asked.

"Yeah, I feel alright that way," Jazz nodded.

"Well then, what is your name and do you think you have any living relatives?" Ratchet asked pointedly.

"Yeah, I got family," Jazz smiled knowingly, "Every 'Bot here is my family. It's me,Ratch...Jazz."


	22. The Telltale Spark

_Author's Notes: First of all, sorry this took so long. There was so much more I wanted to put in this chapter, but it was getting kind of long so I'll have to save it for the next chapter. Hopefully this turned out well, since it is a crucial chapter for the story. Also, I know this is gonna sound silly, but I have been wanting to use this chapter title for the past four or five chapters, but I had to wait. Yeah, I've been planning this one for a while. Thank you to everyone who is reading this story, and please favorite follow and review :)_

* * *

Chapter 22

The Telltale Spark

The news that Jazz was alive and was SS-PLX-04 was met with both shock and joy among the Autobots. Jazz had been a very skilled mech in the Autobot forces as well as the life of the party, so he had made many friends over the vorns. Jazz was grateful to have his memories back, but he also knew there would be a lot of things he did as a Vehicon that would haunt him forever.

"I still can't believe it," Smokescreen said as he looked at Jazz with disbelieving optics as they sat in the training room, "I knew the Decepticons had turned civilians into mindless drones, but our own teammates? Dude, you're a legend, and even you..."

"Aw, cheer up Smokey," Jazz consoled the younger 'Bot, "We're gonna fix this, somehow. Yo Alfred, how are those communication relays comin'?"

" _Waaaah_! Eh, oops..." VS-5000 shouted and then muttered following the sound of a crash, "Um, I can fix that!"

"You should get Ratchet and Bluestreak to help you out," Jazz suggested.

"That's okay!" VS-5000 shouted from the next room, "Raf and I are doing fine. I just got a little clumsy!"

Jazz just chuckled to himself and let the other Vehicon work in peace. VS-5000 was a scatterbrained mech, and Jazz couldn't help but wonder what kind of 'Bot that guy used to be. It would be hilarious if he turned out being a brainiac like Perceptor or Nosecone.

"This whole situation has been crazy," Smokescreen commented, "First Ratchet finds his long lost son, then Bulkhead finds his long lost parents, and now we've all found a fallen hero. What's going to happen next?"

"You think I'm a hero?" Jazz asked as if it never occurred to him before.

"Of course you are! I studied all about you at the academy," Smokescreen replied excitedly, "You once figured out how to scramble Soundwave's communications using only a spoon and a pair of jumper cables, and then you and Prowl got the jump on those lousy 'Cons when they-"

Smokescreen stopped talking once he realized that Jazz was staring at the floor; the melancholy hanging in the air like a cobweb weighed down with dust.

"Gee, I'm sorry Jazz," Smokescreen said in a more subdued tone of voice, "I forgot that you and Prowl were friends. Hey, maybe Prowl will be alive too, as a Vehicon. Then we can find him and rescue him."

"It won't happen," Jazz replied with a sad shake of his helm, "Our memories, the Vehicons' memories, are all the same. We were all captured, and then melted down for our sparks and processors."

"So?" Smokescreen asked obliviously.

"We were all _alive_ ," Jazz explained heavily, "Megatron used live mechs and femmes to make his undead army. Prowl was killed. He was shot right in the spark by Thundercracker. For good measure his dead frame was shot several more times by Skywarp. Starscream's brothers murdered him, Smokey. He can't come back."

Smokescreen took the news hard, for two reasons. One reason was that Prowl was a fellow Praxian, and Smokescreen knew their frame type was becoming rarer as the vorns went on. The other reason was that the Vehicon dilemma, while horrifying, also gave the Autobots hope of finding lost loved ones. If Prowl wasn't a Vehicon, then he was really dead, and that feeling of permanence was crushing.

* * *

VS-5000 and Raf meanwhile were setting up a communications relay station so that they would be able to cut through dampening fields and have a better chance of contacting base from the Decepticon warship. That would be vital if teams of Autobots were going to try to sneak aboard the Nemesis and recover live Vehicons. They just hoped the Vehicons would listen to them once they were retrieved.

Raf was actually the one building the thing since he was the only one that knew how to do so with Ratchet off duty. VS-5000 was just there because he was big enough to move the heavy equipment.

"Okay Alfred, a little to the left and into that port right there," Raf instructed as VS-5000 tried to keep hold of a heavy piece of machinery.

"Right, got it," VS-5000 grunted as he sidestepped to put the thing where it was supposed to go, "There we go...There! No problems."

"Great. We're almost done," Raf replied in satisfaction, "Thanks for volunteering, Alfred."

"No problem. I want Prime to be happy," VS-5000 told Raf, "After all, if he won't be my daddy, then maybe he'll be my uncle, or my cousin, or my college roommate. I just want him to feel some sort of attachment, that way he'll never want to kill me. Oh, maybe he could be my grandfather! Do you think Bumblebee will adopt me?"

"Alfred, you don't need to do anything," Raf assured the flighty Vehicon, "The fact that you're a Vehicon isn't your fault, and soon you'll go through the memory scanner and learn who you really are. Then everything will be alright."

"I don't know, little man," VS-5000 replied nervously, "I just got this weird feeling, like if I go through with this then something will go wrong. My nightmares are...well...it's not like with Bluestreak. It's hard to explain why. I always dream that I'm leaning backwards out of a window or door, and then falling with my helm aimed down at the ground."

"That sounds scary," Raf gasped.

"Yeah, but the weird part is, in the dream, I'm not scared," VS-5000 explained, "I feel like I _want_ to fall. I want that rush of air whizzing by my helm and through my...and through my wings. In the dream I have wings, and the feeling of the air is incredible. At the last second, just before I crash to the ground, I wake up. I don't know if it's a memory or just a dream, but I always feel a rush of joy before the fear finally sets in. I don't know what's wrong with me, and I'm kind of afraid to find out."

Raf was about to say something, but he was interrupted when Ratchet cleared his vocalizer to get their attention. He was standing by the medbay and waiting for VS-5000 to come over there for his operation.

"VS-5000, it's time," Ratchet said with no emotion, though his optics shone with hopefulness.

"Already? But the relay!" VS-5000 protested as he gestured to the half-finished thing.

"It'll still be there when you wake up," Ratchet assured him, "Now come on. I've got the hang of this procedure now, so there's virtually no risk to your processor. Come on, you big sparkling! You'll be fine."

Alfred whimpered but did as he was asked. He didn't really care about his memories. Oh sure, part of him wanted to know what kind of life he led before Megatron wiped his mind, but another part was afraid to know. What if he had been something stupid like a garbage mech or a store clerk? He also worried he might've been a sparkling like PR-35 was. Wouldn't that be something? To learn he had no real memories at all and then realize his entire life was just being born and then serving Megatron. That would be depressing. Then again, that was what he used to think anyway.

Ratchet motioned to the berth, and VS-5000 realized another reason he didn't want to do this. Everyone spoke of the final memories as being something horrible. What if the nightmares he had for the rest of his life involved acid melting his frame? He'd rather take the falling dream, thank you very much.

Despite his misgivings, VS-5000 obeyed when Ratchet motioned for him to lay down on the berth. He stared straight up at the ceiling while Ratchet hooked him up to the device; stealing brief glances at Ratchet every now and then. Then he lost consciousness and began to recall his entire life...

... _Oh, crud!_ VS-5000's mind screamed at him as memories flashed through his mind. _That's not good. Wake up, you idiot! Oh my Allspark, I'm still asleep, aren't I? Wait, do I talk in my sleep? Can anyone hear me right now? Oh, scrap! Wake up, you airhead! Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP!_

A few minutes later VS-5000 finally awoke to see Ratchet staring down at him expectantly, and he gulped in trepidation.

"How are you feeling?" Ratchet asked in a professional manner, "Can you transform yet?"

"Yeah, I think so," VS-5000 replied hesitantly.

"Good. Now, what is your name?" Ratchet asked in a gentler tone.

"Um...I d-don't think the recovery thing w-worked," VS-5000 stammered, "I, uh, don't remember anything b-before M-Megatron."

"Really? But I connected the right nodes," Ratchet replied in bewilderment, "How could the procedure fail?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter," VS-5000 answered quickly, "I can just be Alfred for the rest of my life! I don't mind. Heh heh heh..."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge at VS-5000's jittery behavior. Either his processor was having trouble rebooting or this drone was hiding something. What was there to hide though? Maybe the Vehicon was just nervous that without his memories he wouldn't truly be accepted by the Autobots. Ratchet decided that was probably the reason and allowed Alfred to leave the medbay on the condition he come back later for his checkup. Alfred agreed and quickly took off to help Raf with his project.

 _Oh mech! That was a close one!_ VS-5000 thought as his spark pulsed wildly in his chassis. _I can't believe it. My whole life...I've gotta get outta here, before they scrap me! Ratchet is gonna kill me and use my helm for a garbage can..._

VS-5000 of course had lied about his memories not returning to him. They returned alright, and revealed to him who and what he truly was. He couldn't tell anyone though. They would kill him. Optimus Prime would order his execution and Ratchet would gleefully carry it out. Who could he turn to now? Who was left that wouldn't hate him? He needed someone that didn't know him during the war and who wouldn't judge him. Someone that liked him the way he was...

"Miko!" VS-5000 hollered as he searched for the teenage girl, "Hey, Miko! Where are you?"

"Hey, Alfred!" Miko called up from her place next to her amplifier, "I was just waxing my axe. You wanna hear a song when I'm finished?"

"Maybe later," VS-5000 replied hurriedly, "First, I wanted to know...You wanna go for a drive?"

"Cool! Dune bashing!" Miko exclaimed as she hopped in the air, " _Woohoo_!"

"Um, no actually," VS-5000 corrected her, "I wondered if you'd go with me...to Tokyo."

"You want me to show you around my home city?" Miko asked with slightly less enthusiasm. She got to see Tokyo all the time, and it wasn't that interesting to her anymore.

"More than that, Miko. I wanna live there," VS-5000 declared, "You could show me a cool place to live, and then when you move back we can see each other all the time. We can drive up to the mountains in the north and then go to the beaches in the south. At least, I think that's how mountains and beaches work. The open road will be our slave, and the call of the wind our master. Come on Miko, it'll be fun! Just us against the world."

"Are you glitched?" Miko asked with her hand on her hip, "You can't just leave! What about the other Vehicons and stopping Megatron's evil?"

"Look, I have as much reason to hate Megatron as anybody, but I can't do this," Alfred admitted, "I can't live here underground behind these tiny walls. I can't keep trying to prove myself and wondering when I'll finally be disposed of. I can't...I can't look at them. Ratchet, Jazz, Bulkhead, Ironhide, and even Optimus. I just can't do it anymore. Please help me find a new place to live, Miko. You're the only one left I can trust. You're like, my best friend. Please?"

Miko had never seen Alfred act like this before. For one thing, he sounded truly serious for the first time Miko could recall. Did the memory scanner do something bad to him? He still acted scared, but not goofy kind of scared like he did before. Now he sounded like...like the war-scarred veteran he actually was.

"You remember who you are, don't you?" Miko asked in a quiet subdued voice.

Alfred shifted nervously as he tried to avoid looking down at Miko, but her gaze never wavered. She could see it clear as day, Alfred knew exactly who he was, and whatever his past held was something that shook him to his very core.

"It's okay, Alfred. You can trust me," Miko promised him, "I don't know what happened to you, but whatever it is keeping it all inside won't help you. You need to talk to us. You need to let the others in. They can help you."

"I heard you killed Hardshell," VS-5000 suddenly said, and Miko tensed at the unwanted memory, "That was one guy, and he was just an Insecticon, yet you felt bad about it. I don't."

"You don't what?" Miko inquired.

"I don't feel bad about the stuff I've done," Alfred explained as he sat down on the floor next to her, "Well, at least not most of it. I never thought about it. Thinking was my enemy, but now all I do is think. It's awful. Miko...I have a brother."

"Really? That's great! Do you know where he is?" Miko asked happily.

"Not really, but I don't think I should look for him," VS-5000 replied, "I don't think he'd want a drone for a brother."

"Why not?" Miko asked innocently, "I wouldn't mind if I had a Vehicon for a brother. Then again I'd be cool with being related to a Cybertronian at all."

"You don't understand," VS-5000 groused, "My brother is really self-absorbed. He was, well, he is, the reason I even bothered with this stupid war thing. I was happy relying on my strength and my speed to survive, but...Then we started thinking. There it is again, _thinking_ , my mortal enemy."

"What did you start thinking about?" Miko prodded.

"Injustice, mostly," VS-5000 replied; sounding weary and defeated, "We thought about what power really was. During the Golden Age of Cybertron, money was power. Political smarts was power. Power wasn't actually power. It was messed up, and those of us that had a lot to give and nothing to give it to, well, we got tired of it. My brothers especially felt that way, and I was always more of a follower than a leader. I just wanted to have fun and shake things up."

"You said _brothers_. I thought you only had one," Miko pointed out.

"I do only have one...now," VS-5000 clarified, "Miko, if I tell you the truth about me, you can't tell anyone. Not Bulkhead, not Optimus, _no one._ Understand?"

"Whoa. Were you a secret agent or something?" Miko asked curiously.

"No. In fact, everyone knew who I was. That's the problem," VS-5000 told her, "Promise me, Miko?"

"Well...okay, since you're my friend, I promise," Miko naively agreed.

VS-5000 then shifted so he was lying on his abdominal struts and his red visor was looking directly at Miko. Miko leaned in closer so he could whisper, and he used one of his servos to shield her body from any busybodies that might be watching, though they were in fact alone.

"Miko," VS-5000 spoke softly so no one else would hear him, "My name is Skywarp."

"Skywarp? That name is _so cool_!" Miko exclaimed, and VS-5000 shushed her frantically, "What? Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm guessing that name means nothing to you," VS-5000 ventured, and Miko nodded, "Well you see, I was an energon seeker on Cybertron, a military jet that was converted to search for raw crystals to mine. It wasn't a dishonorable job or anything, but it wasn't what my frame type was built to do. We were supposed to keep Cybertron safe. Instead we were glorified metal detectors. Eventually the council decided that we were more trouble than we were worth. The real problems started when all the seekers were moved to a single city and told that energon seeking was no longer a job. The Omegas were built to both search out and mine crystals, so having seekers for that job was no longer necessary. Our new city, Vos, was poor and filled with restless former military jets. Can you see where I'm going with this?"

"Um...not really," Miko shrugged, "I've heard the word seeker before, but I can't remember where or what it was referring to. Oh wait, I remember now! Starscream was called a seeker! Wait, so you and Starscream are from the same city?"

"Uh, it's a little more than that," VS-5000 admitted as he felt himself wince, "We were both from the same trine...Megatron's elite trine. Starscream is my brother."

Miko's eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped. Starscream's brother? But that meant...

"You mean...You're a Decepticon?" Miko asked; horrified, "You...you were _always_ a Decepticon."

"Hey now, you promised not to tell!" Skywarp reminded her harshly, "You promised me as a friend that you would keep my secret, and I'm holding you to that."

"So when are _you_ gonna tell them?" Miko asked challengingly.

"I'm not," Skywarp replied point blank, "It's none of their business who I am or what happened to me. Just help me work the ground bridge to go to someplace far away, and I'll never bother you guys again. Just help me, okay?"

Miko was nervous about VS-5000's demeanor. This wasn't the whiny fun loving Vehicon from before. This guy was growling at her and looked ready to lose his slag at any moment. This guy was Starscream's brother, a Decepticon, and as she was just now remembering, several times bigger than her.

"Okay big guy, grab some energon for the road and I'll set up the ground bridge," Miko told him placatingly, "I'll find you a good place. Okay?"

"Okay," Skywarp replied; exhaling in relief, "I knew I could count on you, Miko. You're the best."

Skywarp then went to the supply room to gather energon, but Miko wasn't heading to the ground bridge. She knew if this guy was allowed to leave he would return to Megatron and reveal the location of their secret base. No, this threat had to be dealt with, so Miko ran for the Autobots' personal quarters in search of someone who could help her.

* * *

For three weeks VS-5001 had been helping Starscream renovate his secret fortress in the derelict Harbinger. Starscream needed a new T-Cog, and VS-5001 knew that as an Eradicon it was his duty to donate his for his superior officer, even if said officer was no longer in Megatron's fold.

Starscream had also promised to aid VS-5001 in finding a cure for the rusting chips the Vehicons and Eradicons had been suffering from. VS-5001 was grateful that his faith in Starscream had proven valid. The flying drone did find it ironic however that the traitor was proving more helpful in finding a medical cure than the actual medic. He knew it was blasphemy to want misfortune to happen to a Decepticon officer, but VS-5001 still hoped something bad happened to Knockout.

What VS-5001 didn't realize however was that while Starscream did indeed plan on finding a cure of the rust plaguing the drones, he had no intention of allowing the Eradicon himself to enjoy the benefits of that cure. Starscream suspected that VS-5001 was Prowl, a most hated enemy of the seekers. Even if he wasn't, the Eradicon was an Autobot that was very close to remembering his past. Starscream planned on scanning his spark to discover his identity, and then using that knowledge to figure out how quickly or slowly he should kill him.

During the day cycle VS-5001 would move machinery, connect wires, haul materials, and do whatever else Starscream commanded for their mission. Starscream almost regretted the idea of killing the drone. He enjoyed having a servant at his beckon call, but it wasn't worth the risk that the miscreant Eradicon could learn his former identity and turn on Starscream. Starscream knew he would have to kill him eventually.

As the nights progressed VS-5001's dreams became more vivid and more frenzied. Sometimes they were nightmares with no real basis in reality, and other times they felt so real that he was certain they were memories. Of course, the rational part of VS-5001's processor would tell him they were merely delusions from the damage to his secondary chip, but a small part wondered if he was missing something important.

One dream involved him sparring with a purple and black seeker in a large room that was a crisp platinum grey with lots of gym equipment surrounding them. He didn't remember the details, but he remembered thinking how much smarter he was than the seeker. When he woke up VS-5001 felt guilty, for an Eradicon should never consider themselves worthier than a real mech in any way whatsoever.

Another dream involved him riding an earth horse into a barn and then being shot by an Autobot. He fell off the horse in a daze and tried to find the Autobot to kill them, only for the Autobot to be Arcee. Arcee then informed him that they were now married. Then she morphed into Bulkhead and punched the confused Decepticon in the face plate.

VS-5001 awoke from that surreal nightmare screaming, but at least he knew that one wasn't real. Starscream was not amused to be awakened by the scream and scratched the Eradicon across the chassis. VS-5001 admitted he deserved that even as he welded himself to stop the bleeding.

One dream in particular caused VS-5001 to question his very identity, however. In this dream he was flying with two other seekers and shooting down the golden towers of Iacon. What made this dream odd was VS-5001 wasn't old enough to remember the towers ever existing. Eradicons didn't exist back then. In the dream when they were finished tearing down the towers VS-5001 saw a father escaping the tower with his sparking in his arms. They were both gilded in blue and silver, clearly elites, and VS-5001 knew he should hate them, but he couldn't. They both looked so frightened and helpless, and he knew deep down that killing sparklings and their parents was wrong.

"Hey, TC!" The purple and black seeker hollered at him, "You see any survivors we should pick off?"

"Uh, um, no Skywarp. Nothing," VS-5001 lied.

After that VS-5001 woke up, and his entire frame was shaking. It felt so real. Already in his wakeful state he was forgetting the seeker's name, but it felt so _real_. It felt like that seeker had been his best friend in the universe, but it was all just a dream. The towers, the running rich family, the seekers...all a dream. It had to be.

Two days after the dream Starscream informed him that they now had everything they needed for the T-Cog transplant. This was going to be a tricky operation that had to be done in phases. Phase one was to remove VS-5001's T-Cog and patch him back up. Step two was to wait for the Eradicon to recover. Step three was for VS-5001 to operate on Starscream and implant the T-Cog inside of him. The unspoken step four was for Starscream to learn VS-5001's true identity and kill him. VS-5001 was still oblivious to Starscream's true intentions, however.

The time came for VS-5001 to lose his T-Cog. He knew he should be nervous, yet oddly enough he didn't feel that way. As Starscream loomed over him ready to cut the drone open, he felt oddly calm and secure. Something inside him told him that Starscream would do a good job and that he was safe.

"I'm going to shut off your pain receptors now," Starscream informed him with detached professionalism, "Hold perfectly still or I might accidentally slice up something vital. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," VS-5001 replied as his visor stared up at the dusty dark ceiling of the Harbinger.

Starscream set to work on retrieving the T-Cog. He was no doctor and had to look at the chart several times to even figure out where he was supposed to cut, but the Eradicon remained calm no matter how many times Starscream fumbled or asked where his drill was supposed to go. Finally, after a half hour of work, Starscream had the T-Cog. Part of him considered not even patching up the Eradicon, but he knew he needed it to operate on him so he reluctantly put it back together.

VS-5001 was sore once his pain receptors were turned back on, but he didn't feel unduly injured. He did, however, feel the emptiness where his T-Cog should have been. He wondered vaguely if this was how a real mech would feel without their T-Cog, and considered that this was possibly how Starscream felt.

"How long until you can operate on me?" Starscream demanded to know.

"I will begin whenever you command, sir," VS-5001 replied respectfully.

"Even though you're still recovering?" Starscream asked skeptically.

"Pain is a part of life, sir," VS-5001 replied stoically, "I rely on your judgment to know when to begin."

Starscream groaned under his breath. This was the one bad thing about drones. They couldn't make an informed decision to save their lives. Even if the Eradicon had been bleeding out all over the floor he probably still would've obeyed whatever order Starscream gave him. It was paradoxically the best thing and the worst thing about the drones.

Starscream decided to take pity on the loyal Eradicon and wait until the next day before his surgery. Truth be told, he mostly did it because he was too nervous to go under the knife at that moment. Even though Starscream was sure the Eradicon didn't have malicious intent at the moment, he also knew surgery was risky. He didn't want to die on board the Harbinger on an operating table, but at the same time he was desperate for a T-Cog. Without flight, what kind of seeker was he?

The next day Starscream agreed to the surgery, but VS-5001 had to wait for several minutes while the jittery former SIC gathered up his nerve. VS-5001 was patient with Starscream and did everything in his power to reassure his superior officer. He was being trusted with an important task and therefore would do everything in his power to live up to such an honor.

It took longer to attach the T-Cog than it took to remove it. While the Eradicon had both hands unlike early Vehicons, he also had flat fingers that were difficult to maneuver for tasks requiring fine motor skills. Eradicon hands were designed for slicing hunks out of Autobots and shifting into guns, not for delicate surgery. After two hours of work, however, everything was back in place and Starscream could already feel his body accepting the new part. He was a real Transformer again!

While Starscream recovered VS-5001 catered to his every whim. He would bring Starscream energon, administer his pain medicine, and clean the Harbinger for him so he wouldn't get an infection from the dust. That outcome was highly unlikely, but Starscream was insistent.

Starscream was glad that he wasn't alone after surgery, as he would've been had he gone with his original plan of doing the surgery himself. Starscream had killed a clone of himself and would have tried to implant that T-Cog into himself if no one had found him. Problem was, the clone Starscream was going to get the part from had been dead for a long while and whether or not its T-Cog would've even worked was uncertain. With a live donor Starscream was guaranteed to fly again.

* * *

It was a week after the surgery, three weeks after VS-5001 had first come to the former commander, that Starscream decided enough was enough. He needed to figure out who this Eradicon was, and then kill him before dissecting his body for science. He would figure out how to build a non-rusting material for the chip using information collected from the Eradicon's dead body. Maybe if it was just a low level grunt or a civilian Starscream would be quick with them. After all, VS-5001 did donate his T-Cog. A quick death was the least Starscream could do.

"VS-5001, get in here!" Starscream ordered, and the Eradicon came running, "VS-5001, this machine is a spark reader. It will tell me vital information about your condition. Just lie down on the berth and I will begin the process of learning how to handle your madness."

VS-5001 bowed respectfully to Starscream before taking his place on the medical berth. It was just too easy. Starscream connected all of the machines to his drone as the Eradicon looked up at the ceiling with no expression on his face plate. This was the moment they had both been waiting for, though for very different reasons.

The spark reader went to work, and Starscream smiled evilly as he awaited the readouts that would tell him which of his enemies he would be smiting.

 _I bet it's Prowl_... Starscream thought to himself. _Oh, how I would relish it if you were that Praxian and I got to snuff out your spark. Or maybe you're Jazz. It would be a great pleasure to remove you from the equation once and for all. Ugh! I hope it's not Huffer or something. He might've been a Wrecker, but he was still an easy target. There's no glory in that. Ah, I can feel it now. If you're a big enough prize, you might take Cliffjumper's place as my favorite victory._

The spark reader indicated it was finished with its task, and Starscream practically skipped over to the monitor to see what he was dealing with. When he read the name however, his spark hitched and he felt like it was going to fizzle out of his chassis!

" _Thundercracker_!?" Starscream hissed under his breath in shock, "No, that can't be right. Thundercracker is my trine mate, and a Decepticon! Megatron never used Decepticons to make these ugly things. It would be sacrilege to desecrate our own for...he...he said Thundercracker died in combat. He said Thundercracker died with honor! No..."

Starscream fell to his knees and keened in a manner similar to a baby animal that has lost its mother and doesn't understand how it happened. Nothing made sense anymore. How could Megatron do something so _vile_? What reason could he have to use one of his best warriors for cannon fodder? Why didn't Starscream know Decepticons had been used to make Shockwave's stupid drones!? He was second in command! How could Megatron do this to his own brother?

VS-5001 heard the noise and removed the wires from his body before rising up to attend to his commander. Starscream saw the drones legs in front of him and looked up at the concerned Eradicon. It made him start crying all over again, for he now understood that what he mistaken for the blind obedience of a soulless husk was in fact the quiet dignity of his right wing.

"Sir, what's wrong?" VS-5001 asked Starscream, "Is there no cure for the rust?"

"The _rust_? The rust!" Starscream hollered madly, "You _idiot_! That rust is the best thing that ever happened to you!"

Starscream then stood to his pedes, and much to the confusion of VS-5001, Starscream started hugging the drone tight.

"I'm _so sorry_ , Thundercracker!" Starscream bawled, but VS-5001 still didn't understand what was happening, "I didn't _know_! I didn't know Megatron would do this! This could've happened to anyone. It could've happened to _me_! Oh pit, Vehicons were supposed to reduce Decepticon casualties! How could he _do this_!? I promise, we will find a way to overthrow Megatron. He will not get away with what he has done to you. I swear it."

"Um, sir...what are you talking about?" VS-5001 finally found the voice to ask.

Starscream then stopped hugging the Eradicon and held his shoulder guards as he stared him in the visor. The grey seeker had been so caught up in his own emotions that he had forgotten something, namely that the drone still didn't remember who he was.

"Lie back down on the berth," Starscream ordered curtly; his face and demeanor now all business, "I'm going to override your chip. I warn you now that what you are about to see and experience may be shocking, but you must not panic."

"Yes, sir," VS-5001 nodded dutifully.

Starscream then strapped his brother to the berth and opened up his helm. He didn't know much about surgery on mechs, but he did fully understand the inner workings of the Vehicon inhibitor chips and how to override them. He was careful as he forced VS-5001 into stasis lock and proceeded to render his inhibitor chip useless. He knew the memories would be painful, but it was necessary if he was going to have his brother back.


	23. The Trigger

_Author's Notes: First of all, sorry this update took forever and a day. You'd think this fic would be my top priority story, but my inspiration has been pretty random these days. I still love this story and still intend to finish it, but I have a lot of other ideas that need attention both from Transformers and from other franchises. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy and review this chapter of My Spark Still Shines :)_

* * *

Chapter 23

The Trigger

Skywarp came out of the storage room with his arms full of energon cubes ready to start a new life away from everyone and everything. The open roads of an unexplored world were all he needed. He wanted to be able to fly again and have more out of life, but he couldn't have that now, so he would settle for the necessities.

When Skywarp came out of the storage room however he was greeted by the stern looking faces of Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Ironhide, and Miko. This could only mean one thing...

" _Traitor_ ," VS-5000 hissed at Miko when he saw her standing there with her hands on her hips.

"Sorry dude, but if you go back to Megatron the Autobots would be in major trouble," Miko told him unapologetically, "I can't let that happen."

"Miko has informed us that you were a Decepticon before you became a Vehicon," Optimus said with a questioning tone, "Tell me, what was your name before you became a Vehicon?"

"Uh...Dreadwing?" Skywarp lied.

"Dreadwing's still alive, punk," Ironhide drawled impatiently, "Yer _real_ name."

"Uh...well...I hate you so much right now, Miko!" Skywarp snapped, and then huffed out an intake of air before he finally said, "Skywarp. There, you happy? I'm Skywarp! I'm Starscream's brother, and I had over two hundred confirmed kills even before I turned into a drone."

" _Skywarp_?" Ratchet whispered; his eyes widening with shock and growing distant.

Ratchet was only too familiar with Skywarp's work. His ability to teleport had been one of Megatron's greatest assets in the early days of the war for Cybertron. The elite trine had led the charge when Praxis was destroyed, had aided in the corruption of his youngest son, and Thundercracker and Skywarp were the ones who murdered Prowl in cold energon as he bravely led his comrades to safety. He wasn't Starscream or Thundercracker, but Ratchet still hated him. Skywarp was a monster, and now he was in their base.

"What still puzzles me," Optimus said to the group, unaware that Ratchet was lost in his own processor, "Is that Megatron turned you into a mere Vehicon drone. You were considered one of his best soldiers, and you were the brother of his second in command. So the question I pose to you is, why?"

"Um, I think I know why," Skywarp replied uncertainty; all bravado lost, "But I'm not sure. I remember my last mission. I was sent to retrieve a weapon from the enemy, who had just infiltrated our territory. I flew to the top of a building in Vos while Starscream and Thundercracker kept the Autobots busy. When I got there though, there was one Autobot left. It was a member of the elite guard named Fortress Maximus. He was huge, and there was no way I could outfight him, so I tried to outmaneuver him. I teleported this way and that until I was close enough to take the weapon for myself, but he saw me and blasted me right in my turbines. Then he pushed me off the roof and I fell."

"How did you survive?" Miko asked, wrapped up in the story.

"The last thing I remember before hitting the ground was how good the air felt on my hot turbines," Skywarp recalled, "I knew I was going to die, but instead of being afraid I decided to enjoy the fall. The landing is the bad part anyway, and the pain from that only lasts a second, or so I thought. I flitted in and out of consciousness for several agonizing breems, and the last thing I remember is being in a medbay with Megatron and Shockwave hovering over me. I thought they were going to fix me, but that's where my Skywarp memories end. After that I woke up believing I was a drone, and Megatron programmed me to be a soldier class Vehicon. I think he made me a Vehicon because I failed my mission."

"Whoa, that's rough," Miko commented sympathetically, "I can't believe Megatron even betrayed his own soldiers."

"I don't care about the betrayal, not really," Skywarp shrugged, "But why did he have to take my wings? The very next drone in the Vosian line-up was an Eradicon, and they can fly! Why not me? Why?"

"Yer not gonna cry, are you?" Ironhide asked teasingly.

"No, I'm not gonna cry!" Skywarp snapped irritably, "I just don't understand! Why wasn't I good enough to save? At least if I had been given flight I would kind of get it. Megatron prefers fliers to grounders. Did Megatron not like me? I thought I was one of his favorite soldiers. I thought I mattered, but nobody matters to him."

"Optimus," Ratchet finally spoke after he came to his senses, "We should destroy Skywarp."

His quiet yet severe words were met with silent looks of shock from everyone in the room. Optimus knew Ratchet hated the elite trine, but he never thought the old medic would consider killing one when he was in such a weakened state.

"Ratchet-," Optimus began, but Ratchet cut him off by holding up his servo.

"Ep, ep, ep!" Ratchet exclaimed crossly, "No! None of your talk of the Autobot way and seeing the good in others. There is no good in Skywarp. He's just like Starscream; a monster. We don't have a brig to hold him, and we can't let him go back to Megatron. Our only option is to terminate him."

"Terminate?" Skywarp whined, "You mean I'm gonna be killed _and_ fired? That's just kicking a mech when he's down!"

"Do you see that? He makes jokes even when his own life is on the line!" Ratchet shouted indignantly as he gestured to the Vehicon, "He doesn't care about anyone, not even himself!"

"That's not true! I do care about myself!" Skywarp defended, but for some reason that only made Ratchet angrier, "Look, Doc, I get it! This is about Prowl, isn't it? Look, you don't know what we were facing. TC didn't want to shoot him."

"Yeah right," Ratchet growled.

"No, it's true!" Skywarp continued rambling in hopes of saying something that would keep him alive, "TC respected Prowl, and he never wanted to hurt that Praxian. I even offered to do it for him, but he said no. Oh wait, I just made things worse, didn't I? Well, if it's any consolation TC didn't like it. He was upset afterward and I told him to get over it because it was just a stinking Autobot- Oh, scrap! I messed up again! Wait-"

Ratchet had heard enough excuses, and with another guttural growl he turned his servos into blades and charged for the simpering Vehicon. Skywarp saw this just in time to scoot to one side to avoid Ratchet's attack. Ratchet turned back around and sliced down, but Skywarp dove between Ratchet's legs and slid through them to get behind the medic.

Ratchet turned around to strike again, but Optimus held him back. Skywarp tried to escape but Ironhide grabbed him and held him in place. Miko watched all this with wide enthralled eyes. She knew she should be upset at Ratchet, but there was still that part of her that enjoyed watching giant robots duke it out.

"Enough!" Optimus boomed, forcing Ratchet to cool off and Skywarp to freeze in place, "Now Ratchet, we promised the Vehicons protection-"

"That was before we knew who he was!" Ratchet cut Prime off, "We promised protection for former civilians and Autobots. Skywarp is neither of those things. He has killed innocents and aided in the murder of my oldest son. I can never forgive him for that."

"No one's asking you to," Skywarp spat as he hung limply in Ironhide's grip, "I know what we did was wrong, but it was a war. If Thundercracker didn't kill Prowl, well...I couldn't let him back out. I would rather see some random Autobot die than my own brother."

"What are you talkin' about?" Ironhide asked, "Prowl didn't have his weapon when you creeps shot him in cold energon. You two morons weren't in any danger from him at all."

"I know," Skywarp replied; his voice suddenly sullen and subdued, "It wasn't Prowl that had TC's cockpit in a vice. It was Megatron."

* * *

"What _is_ that thing?" Starscream asked as he and his trine looked at the cables snaking around a medical berth like a garden of parasitic vines.

"It kinda looks like a torture table," Skywarp commented.

The elite trine were in Shockwave's lab after being summoned by Megatron, but the warlord and his SIC Shockwave weren't there yet. Apparently this was supposed to be some sort of demonstration, but what type of... _thing_...Shockwave invented was not yet clear to the confused and nervous seekers.

Just then Megatron and Shockwave came into the room they had summoned the trine to, and Starscream sneered at seeing Shockwave again. That purple cyclops had become Megatron's most trusted confidant, a position Starscream himself once held, and it made the seeker's energon boil in jealousy.

"Greetings, my warriors," Megatron smiled a cunning smile as he walked toward the strange device the seekers had been eyeing, "I see you have already had a glimpse of Shockwave's latest and greatest invention.

" _This_ is his greatest invention?" Starscream asked derisively, "It looks like a junk computer and reject parts."

"That is an incorrect assessment, Starscream," Shockwave replied without inflection; a trait that always gave Skywarp the creeps, "This is the latest in interrogation technology. Gentlemen, I give you, the cortical psychic patch."

"Uh...so...What does it do?" Skywarp asked ignorantly.

"It tortures the prisoner, obviously!" Starscream snapped at his half-witted brother.

"Not exactly," Shockwave corrected, "The device infiltrates the processor of the subject and extrapolates their neural net so that all of their memories can be viewed by the interrogator. There is also a feature where one neural net can infiltrate another thus allowing the interrogator to question the subject while their processors are being scanned."

"That's...disturbing," Thundercracker, who had been quiet the entire time, commented.

"Something to hide, Thundercracker?" Megatron asked suspiciously.

"No sir, I merely believe that this device is an invasion of the most basic right to privacy," Thundercracker defended himself.

"Autobots have no rights," Megatron barked challengingly at being questioned, "And my followers will submit to whatever I wish. For your insubordination, I order you to be the first Decepticon to try out Shockwave's new device."

All three seekers gaped in horror at Megatron's order. This was an interrogation device meant to be used on their enemies. It was a device that shredded through the mind like a rake through sand.

"M-Master, surely Thundercracker could be forgiven just this once..." Starscream attempted to reason with Megatron, "He is after all one of your most loyal soldiers."

"We'll see about that," Megatron sneered sinisterly, "Thundercracker, get on the table."

Thundercracker really didn't want to do this, but if he didn't then Megatron might force Skywarp or Starscream to go in his place. Reluctantly the blue and grey seeker submitted to his master's will and allowed Shockwave to hook him to the device. To the surprise of the other seekers Shockwave also hooked Megatron up to the corresponding berth to serve as the interrogator.

Once inside Thundercracker's processor, Megatron asked the question that would forever force the seeker out of Megatron's good graces.

"Thundercracker, was there ever a time you helped our enemies on the battlefield? Show me if there was," Megatron ordered in a cold and calculated tone of voice.

As much as Thundercracker wanted to fight the probe he simply couldn't, and soon he was showing a memory that he himself had nearly forgotten. It was the day Praxus was conquered and the seekers were gathering survivors to either kill or convert into the very first wave of Vehicon drones. The memory then showed Thundercracker coming across a young white and black Praxian that begged for a quick death and spoke of losing his little brother. Thundercracker had felt sorry for the mech, so he let him go. Of course Megatron recognized the young mech. After all, who wouldn't? It was the mech that grew up to be Prime's own SIC; Prowl.

Thundercracker felt himself being forced awake again, and his helm hurt when he onlined back in the lab. He turned his helm and saw that Megatron was already up and standing over him with an angry look on his face plate.

"So, you allowed Prowl to escape?" Megatron stated rather than asked, "And because of your laziness he grew to become one of our greatest enemies. I hope you have your affairs in order, because I don't take treason lightly."

"No, wait! He's not a traitor!" Skywarp stepped in front of Thundercracker's berth to shield him, which meant he was uncomfortably close to Megatron, "Sir, please. That was deca-vorns ago. TC would kill Prowl in a sparkbeat now, wouldn't you bro?"

"Uh, of course," Thundercracker was still dazed, but he knew he needed to say whatever it took to survive Megatron's wrath, "I'm loyal to the Decepticons one hundred percent."

"That's good to hear," Megatron replied in a deceptively agreeable tone, "But words alone will not sway me. You have twenty orns to find and kill Prowl. By that time I will have a spark chamber in my servos. It will either be Prowls, or yours."

"Yes, M-M-Master," Thundercracker replied shakily, "I w-won't let you down."

"Good," Megatron nodded as he turned to leave the room, "Oh, and Shockwave? Save the recording of this session. I think there was some lag time between request and retrieval of information."

"Yes, Lord Megatron," Shockwave replied dutifully as he set about working on improving his invention.

Starscream led the trine away from that horrid room with its snaking tentacles. They all knew Megatron wasn't lying. They would have to find Prowl, and they would have to do it soon.

* * *

It had been 15 orns since Megatron's threat on Thundercracker's life. They had only 5 orns left to find the Praxian, and the trine was working tirelessly to search for him. Even Starscream, who had many responsibilities on board the flagship, took time off to aid Thundercracker and Skywarp in their search.

"Maybe I should just take the punishment like a mech," Thundercracker said miserably as he sat in the control room with his brothers; their claws clacking away on keyboards searching for the elusive Autobot SIC, "Maybe I should face Megatron and try to reason with him."

"Megatron cannot be reasoned with," Starscream dismissed the idea outright, "I have worked with him long enough to know that trying to use logic on Megatron is a fool's errand."

"Don't worry, TC. We'll find that Autobot slagger," Skywarp reassured his trine brother, "You'll rip through his spark and then present his head to Megatron yourself. That'll show how loyal you are, and no one will ever question you again."

Thundercracker sighed, and Skywarp realized his pep talk didn't have quite the effect he had hoped. After a few minutes of silence, TC finally told them why.

"I don't think we should kill Prowl," Thundercracker explained, and Starscream sneered at him while Skywarp looked shocked, "I'm serious, guys. I've looked into the reports of Praxian deaths since the destruction of their city-state. A few missing mechs dropped off the map, but as far as those verified to be alive, there are only two: Prowl and Ratchet. Ratchet is old and will likely never build another creation. If anything of the legacy of Praxus is to survive, then Prowl must survive. I just...I don't feel worthy of deciding whether or not an entire race and culture deserves to die. If I kill Prowl, then it's genocide."

"So?" Skywarp asked with less gravity than Thundercracker, "It won't be the first time. We Decepticons survive because we are strong. We seekers grow in numbers because we are strong. If Prowl can't kill you, then it'll be his fault when you kill him. It's as simple as that."

Thundercracker glared at Skywarp, and the black and purple seeker realized he had said the wrong thing again.

"If you're done shoving your pede into your mouth," Starscream growled at Skywarp, "I have a visual on the New Polyhex Space Station. It was recently reclaimed by Autobots, and according to the roster Prowl is their commander. Gentlemechs, we have found our target..."

* * *

The scene in the space station was pure chaos from the moment the Decepticons forcibly boarded. Autobot mechs and femmes were running and screaming everywhere. There was smoke from the laser blasts firing on the hull shielding and a red blinking light that coated every room as the warning klaxon blared. Skywarp could barely see what was in front of him, but he never lost sight of Thundercracker. Starscream had separated to search on the other side of the ship for Prowl, so that left TC and Skywarp to search without him.

"We should head for the escape pods!" Thundercracker shouted over the siren.

"We can't leave now! We haven't found him yet!" Skywarp screamed back over the noise.

"No, 'Warp. The escape pods is where they'll be going! We can intercept them!" Thundercracker explained.

"Oh, okay!" Skywarp was getting really tired of that stupid klaxon, but he had to admit to himself he enjoyed yelling everything he said.

Thundercracker led the way and Skywarp stayed on his heels (which were not that girly, thank you very much). The seekers had miscalculated their speed, because by the time they got there most of the Autobots had already boarded the life pods. Fortunately for them, the one Autobot that actually mattered to them was still there ushering his comrades into the pods that remained.

They saw Bumblebee and Ratchet board a pod, which just left Prowl, Hound, and a sparkling that Hound was holding in his arms.

/You get Prowl, I'll get tall green and ugly,/ Skywarp growled over the comm as he aimed for the unsuspecting Autobot sire.

/No!/ Thundercracker quickly replied as he placed his servo on Skywarp's gun, /We only need Prowl. Let the others go. Seekers do not kill sparklings./

/Um, yeah, that attitude is what got us into this mess in the first place,/ Skywarp pointed out.

Skywarp then went to take aim on his targets again, but Hound and his son Drill Bit were already in the escape pod by the time Skywarp and Thundercracker had stopped arguing. That only left Prowl, and Thundercracker steeled himself for his grisly deed. Skywarp could tell from the stiff way Thundercracker walked that he wasn't ready to do this.

"Prowl," Thundercracker softly growled his name, and Prowl turned around calmly to look at the Decepticon.

"Do not attempt to go after my friends," Prowl warned Thundercracker as he gave the blue seeker a cold glare, "I will not let you pass this threshold, Decepticon."

"I know," Thundercracker replied ruefully, "And I will not allow you to pass either. You asked me for a quick death when you were a youngling, and now I am here to grant it."

"We have fought many times before," Prowl pointed out, "What makes you think you can defeat me now?"

"Because now you are alone," Thundercracker replied as he raised his blaster to Prowl's chassis.

Prowl drew his weapon as well, and the two mechs just stood there for a few tense breems holding their weapons at each other. Nether one seemed willing to fire first, yet neither one was willing to back down. Skywarp finally got bored and shot the gun out of Prowl's servo, and as Prowl bent down to grab it Skywarp teleported and took the SIC's weapon.

"Now, TC! Either you shoot him or I will!" Skywarp shouted at Thundercracker, and the blue seeker's digit tensed on the trigger.

"I apologize to you, Autobot," Thundercracker rasped as he repositioned his blaster to aim for Prowl's helm, "Say hello to your brother in the Allspark."

Thundercracker then shot at Prowl, but Prowl moved to the side to dodge the attack. He tried to slip by them, but his bulkier body meant the seekers were faster than him. Skywarp grabbed Prowl and held him in place while Thundercracker took aim again, this time killing the SIC with two shots; one in the helm and one in the spark.

Skywarp dropped the body and let the lifeless frame fall to the ground. Thundercracker's intakes were the only sound that could be heard in the area. Starscream was somewhere in the station, but beyond that they were completely alone in the depths of space staring down at a hero who had been cut down while saving his friends.

* * *

"So you see? He didn't even wanna do it!" Skywarp finished telling the story to the present day Autobots and Miko, "He had to! It was Prowl's life or TC's, and I would have sooner shot Prowl myself than let TC die! Not that it matters, since he's dead anyway."

Skywarp, now a Vehicon and living with fresh memories that were millennia old, could do nothing more than stand beside Ironhide and hope that the Autobots didn't boil him alive or something gruesome like that. By now even more Autobots had gathered, which only served to make the atmosphere even more tense. For a moment everything was quiet in the former missile silo, but then...

"Optimus," Ratchet said slowly and softly, "I say we should snuff his spark while we still can."

"I'm with Ratchet," Arcee added, "Skywarp killed Ratchet's son and doesn't even feel remorse for it. He deserves to die."

" _Et tu_ , Arcee?" Skywarp whined, "Miko is so much cooler than you!"

"Uh, I'm kinda with them," Miko said sheepishly.

"What!? Not you too!" Skywarp shouted desperately.

"Look Skywarp, I don't _really_ think you should die," Miko elaborated, "But I understand if they do decide to kill you. You work for Megatron-"

"I _used_ _to_ work for Megatron!" Skywarp shouted defensively, "I'm not that mech anymore! Skywarp as you guys knew him died when Megatron clipped my wings. Look, I can't change the past, but I'll help you now. I don't have anything to lose. I have no family, no wings, and no home. Cybertron is dead and so am I. Just give me one more chance, please?"

Skywarp waited with stalled intakes to see if the Autobots would let him stay. He knew Optimus had the final word but at the same time he also knew Ratchet held a lot of clout among the Autobots and would likely try to sway them to kill him. He only hoped enough of the others were on his side.

[Maybe Skywarp should just leave,] Bumblebee suggested, [He doesn't have to stay here. He could just go somewhere else like he wanted to do in the first place.]

"No can do, little mech," Chromia shook her head grimly, "He knows where our base is located. That information would be too juicy for Megatron to resist, and then we'd all be in trouble."

"Yeah, Skywarp is Starscream's brother after all," Bulkhead added, "It would be just like him to try to sell us out."

"Hey, I'm insulted by that!" Skywarp yelled hotly, "Just because Starscream is a selfish backstabbing glitch doesn't mean I am! Besides, I'm never going back to Megatron. Not after what he did to me. I mean look at me! I look like a purple storm trooper with tires!"

"Hey!" Bluestreak whined, "We don't look _that_ bad!"

"I know...it's just the principal of the thing," Skywarp muttered in discontent, "Please Prime, just let me stay. Think of all the good times we had."

Optimus thought about how the drone hadn't stopped annoying him since he showed up and half the time broke things when he was only asked to do basic chores, but Optimus patiently chose not to say any of that.

"You will be allowed to stay," Optimus informed him.

"Yes!" Skywarp pumped a metallic fist in the air.

"But," Optimus continued, and Skywarp tensed up, "Your comm system will be shut off until further notice. I must admit that it will take a while for you to prove yourself trustworthy given this new information, but I believe you can do it. You have been a valued addition to our team, and I hope that you truly have changed for the better. Our only hope for peace is to learn to cooperate, and to forgive. I have already said this to you once, but now I say this to you as Skywarp, welcome to Team Prime."


	24. A Worthy Cause

Chapter 24

A Worthy Cause

Bulkhead and Ironhide were playing possibly the least energetic game of lob ball in the history of Transformer kind. They were both still recovering and therefore used lobbing as a form of physical therapy that didn't make them want to rip out their own T-cogs in frustration. Chromia was their referee, but she didn't really get the chance to do more than sit on the sidelines since they were playing nice for a change.

Chromia's processor was lost in thought over everything that was happening with Team Prime. It was so much so fast, and Chromia wasn't used to thinking this hard about things. She, like Ironhide, was a warrior at spark and spent most of her time thinking of battle strategies rather than diplomacy or conspiracy theories. Really, if she thought about it, she didn't know how Arcee turned out so intelligent with parents like them. Must've been due to her birth parents, whoever they were.

Every Vehicon they encountered from now on was a potential minefield. They had only just gotten used to the idea that Vehicons should not be killed because they could be former Autobots or civilians, but now they knew that Vehicons could also be former Decepticon higher-ups as well. That meant they couldn't just accept the first drone to defect to them. Yet, what if they turned away a lost Autobot or a sparkling that never had a chance to live like little Bluestreak? The moral dilemmas just kept piling on, and Chromia's processor wasn't equipped to solve such problems.

"Ow! Cheap shot, old mech!" Bulkhead groused as he rubbed his sore arm where the ball had hit it.

"That's what ya get for turnin' yer back on me, Wreckin' Ball," Ironhide taunted smugly as he shuffled over to retrieve the battered steel ball, "So, best 51 out of a hundred?"

"You're on!" Bulkhead replied gamely as he assumed a crouching stance.

Just as Ironhide was about to throw the ball to Bulkhead again, the corner of his optic caught sight of two Vehicons standing off to the side hiding behind a beam and watching them play. Ironhide didn't have to guess who it was, since they were the only ones who were brave enough to associate with Bulkhead.

"Hey Klunker, Saline," Ironhide greeted them in a friendly manner, "You two just gonna stand there pretendin' to be statues or are you gonna come play with us?"

"You should be more careful with that ball," Saline reprimanded Ironhide now that she knew she had his attention, "Bulkhead is still injured and needs more rest."

"Carrier, I'm fine! Really," Bulkhead groaned at his mother's doting demands, "I play lob ball all the time. It's good exercise."

"If you pull more wires Ratchet might never be able to weld them back again," Saline replied insistently.

"Now honey, let the boy have his fun," Klunker reasoned with her, "Ironhide is a good mech and isn't going to hurt him. Besides, he outgrew our advice long before we turned into drones."

"Yeah, well..." Saline looked like she was still trying to be angry, but in reality his words merely made her sad.

Saline sat next to Chromia while Klunker joined the game with Ironhide and Bulkhead. Klunker knew it would take time for everyone to adjust to their situation, his spark mate included, so he just tried to get along with as many mechs and femmes as possible.

Chromia, on the other servo, was the curious type that couldn't leave well enough alone when she saw something was bothering someone. She could see that Saline was hurting, and not just because she didn't get her way. She had a feeling she already knew the answer, but she still asked anyway...

"Hey Saline, what's botherin' you?" Chromia asked.

"It's none of your business," Saline replied gruffly in her deep drone voice as she watched the three mechs play lob ball.

"Yer sittin' right next to me and won't leave," Chromia pointed out, "I'm makin' it my business. You look like you need a friend, and I'm offerin' to be that friend. So, what's on yer processor?"

"Well, it's just...so much time has passed," Saline sighed miserably, "It feels like part of my life was stolen from me. My son is old now, and I'm so...tall. I can look my boy in the optic. I haven't been able to do that since he was a sparkling."

"Ain't the height a good thing?" Chromia asked in confusion.

"Not really," Saline shrugged sadly, "This world is so small. Small enough that my old body would have been perfect for it. Being able to see Bulkhead this way just reminds me of all the lost vorns we'll never have. He's so helpless and small...it reminds me of when he was a sparkling. It makes me just want to grab him in my arms and protect him from the big bad world, but I can't. He's a soldier with a war wound and as soon as he's healed he's going back out there to fight. I can do nothing for him now."

"That's not true!" Chromia snapped emphatically; causing the Vehicon to flinch at the volume and forcefulness, "You are still his carrier. Just because you don't have to bottle feed him his energon doesn't mean you can't support him and love him. Look at Arcee. She's dealt with more than her fair share of hurt. She's lost comrades, partners, and limbs over the vorns. The limbs they could rebuild, but nothin' takes away the hurt of losin' your first love. That's what Cliffjumper was to her. Her first true love. You think she don't need me an' Ironhide? Of course she does. No matter how big Arcee gets, she'll always be my sparklin'."

"I don't even know if Bulkhead has ever been in love," Saline told Chromia, "I know nothing about my own son. I was dead to him, and so was Klunker. Now he has two of Megatron's mining goons for parents. I wonder if he'd have been better off not knowing we were still alive."

"Just stop that!" Chromia shouted once again, and this time Saline didn't flinch, "That kind of self pity has no place here. You and Klunker survived a fate worse than death. You were drained of everything that made you who you were, and yet somehow you still managed to hold onto each other. You are a strong femme, and Klunker is a strong mech. That strength flows through Bulkhead, and that is how he has survived living among the Wreckers, the Autobots, and Team Prime. You wanna help Bulkhead? Then get to know him again. Show him you love him and do what you can. Play some lob ball with him, get to know his friends, and stop treatin' him like he just popped out of the Allspark."

"Bulkhead was merge-sparked," Saline replied cheekily, and Chromia smirked at seeing some fire coming back into the Vehicon miner, "Okay, I guess you're right. I just have to play this game on Bulkhead's terms. Our relationship has changed, but he is still my son. Hey listen, you and Ironhide are the only other bonded couple here so far, right?"

"Right," Chromia nodded.

"So, maybe you and Ironhide could hang out with me and Klunker sometime," Saline suggested, "I feel like the four of us would get along like two scraplets on a carcass."

"Sounds good to me," Chromia replied agreeably, "Now, I think Bulkhead just lobbed the ball at Klunker's helm. You wanna help me drag him into the penalty corner?"

Saline grinned mischievously, and together the femmes walked into the line of lob fire. Chromia and Saline came from different backgrounds, but they had enough in common to make for a good friendship. Both femmes were strong, both femmes were simple, both femmes were blunt, and both femmes raised some of the toughest children to ever depart from Cybertron.

* * *

VS-5001 just sat there and stared at the wall while Starscream was talking to him. Starscream was trying to comfort his trine brother all the while trying to extract any useful information about his transformation out of him, but the now aware Thundercracker wasn't in the mood to talk.

How could this be? He wasn't a mech. He wasn't the brother of the mighty Commander Starscream. He was VS-5001, the Eradicon leader and loyal servant to Megatron. He was a drone, a piece of property. Yet Starscream had deactivated the inhibitor chip. He saw the memories for himself and didn't forget them like he did with the dreams. This was _real_. Starscream said he was Thundercracker, and surely the air commander would know his own brother.

Still, it felt too good to be true, and yet too horrible to be true. VS-5001 had started this quest to save his fellow drones, and now he was fuselage-deep in a conspiracy that involved organ theft, processor wiping, and the enslavement of over half the entire population of Cybertron to Megatron and the Decepticons. Despite this horror however, it was one of the best days of his Eradicon life. He had found his brother, and Starscream welcomed him back with open arms despite his generic Eradicon body. If they could only find Skywarp, then everything would be perfect. That was unlikely, but Thundercracker held out hope.

Starscream had asked over and over again why Megatron had turned on Thundercracker. Even after Thundercracker stopped staring at the wall and started doing his chores he wouldn't tell Starscream. Thundercracker remembered exactly what happened, but he feared that if Starscream knew the truth it would cause the grey seeker to reject him. He might have lost his forced loyalty code, but he still didn't want to displease his brother and superior officer. No, he would have to take this secret to his grave. If only he could stop thinking about it.

* * *

The beginning of Thundercracker's end started when they reclaimed the New Polyhex space station for what was probably the 5th time since it was first built. It was 12 vorns after the death of Prowl, and therefore 12 vorns since Thundercracker and his trine had set pede within the aimless space-faring building. Skywarp had died 2 vorns prior, so now Starscream and Thundercracker had to face this new challenge without him.

Megatron had ordered the capture of all Autobots possible so that they could be taken to Shockwave for experimentation. Thundercracker knew he didn't wish that fate on anyone, and he was starting to feel dirty about his place in the Decepticon cause the longer this went on. Megatron's greed had killed Cybertron, and now they were fighting over scraps such as New Polyhex. It made Thundercracker feel like some sort of carrion bird picking at a long-dead carcass. In fact, that was how he was beginning to see the entire Decepticon faction.

Things only got worse when the raid and capture mission was complete. The higher ranking Autobots, including their commander, were to appear before a group of energon seekers and other Decepticons for a mock trial and then be "sentenced" to serve as Shockwave's guinea pigs. The process made Thundercracker sick, so he hung around at the back of the room and watched the proceedings with militaristic detachment. He knew he could no longer impact the outcome of anything, so why bother trying?

The first few mechs were brave when faced with their own deactivation. Each one cursed out the Decepticons, cursed Megatron's name, and were led away once the Decepticons had finished toying with them. Starscream was upset because he couldn't get any of them to beg for mercy, and Thundercracker was upset that the Decepticons were doing this at all.

The last mech Thundercracker saw on the chopping block was a short silver mech with a blue visor; the New Polyhex commander. Thundercracker recognized this mech as Jazz, Prime's own second in command. Catching such a prize would surely make Megatron happy, but it did nothing for Thundercracker's mood.

"You know Autobot, we Decepticons are not incapable of compassion," Starscream said to Jazz with a predatory smile that indicated otherwise, "Perhaps if you ask nicely, we _might_ commute your sentence to life in prison."

Jazz spat at Starscream's peds, causing the seeker to shriek in rage and disgust.

"Get fragged, buzzard brain!" Jazz shouted harshly, "I don't want nothin' to do with any of your so-called _compassion_. The Autobots will stop Megatron, you'll see. Whether I make it out or not, you 'Cons will fall."

" _Whether_ you make it out or not?" Starscream mocked, "Isn't that adorable? The saboteur still holds out hope of rescue. Well, let's see how well you run without legs, Autobrat!"

"Starscream, don't!" Thundercracker shouted before he even realized what he was doing, "I mean, Megatron will probably want to deal with Jazz himself."

Starscream huffed and crossed his arms, but he didn't argue the point. Starscream was getting tired of Megatron taking all the glory for their hard work, but he was still too weak to do anything about it and he knew it. Jazz looked over to where Thundercracker was sitting, and the light in Jazz's visor suddenly became very bright and enraged.

"You!" Jazz shouted as he attempted to wrestle out of the grip of the two other seekers holding his arms, "You killed Prowl! You monster! I'll rip out your spark! You killed my best friend, you fragger!"

Thundercracker was slightly taken aback by the violence being directed his way. It had been 12 vorns. Thundercracker didn't understand how the pain could be so fresh in Jazz's spark when he had plenty of time to get used to being without Prowl. Then again, it wasn't that strange if Thundercracker really thought about it. After all, Skywarp's death still impacted the other trine brothers greatly. What if Thundercracker someday found himself face to face with Skywarp's killer?

The two seekers holding Jazz dragged him away kicking and screaming at Thundercracker for what he had done to Prowl. Thundercracker's face plate was impassive, but his spark felt conflicted. He no longer believed serving Megatron was the right course of action, yet if he tried to escape it would not only be the end of his life but Starscream's as well. He wanted to escape, yet he knew he could not. He saw the smug satisfied faces of the other seekers, including Starscream, and it made him sick.

Jazz might not have been innocent in this war, but none of them were. Jazz had lost his best friend, a mech as close as a brother to him, and now his own life would be taken as well. That was when Thundercracker realized he couldn't let this happen. His selfishness and fear had killed the former Autobot SIC, and if he was ever going to atone for that then this might be his only chance.

...

When Thundercracker entered the brig he saw Jazz just sitting on his cot with his helm in his servos. Jazz was not a tall mech by any means, but Thundercracker had still never seen him look so small. It was clear that Jazz's outburst had drained him of energy, but Thundercracker still feared the resistance he would face.

His heel struts clacked against the steel floor as he approached the cell, and when Jazz lifted his helm to see it was Thundercracker his face contorted into one of pure hatred.

"What do you want, _Decepticon_?" Jazz growled in a very un-Jazzlike way, "Come to watch Shockwave tear me to pieces?"

"No, I am here to set you free," Thundercracker replied stoically, "I cannot do much for you, but I can still give you a fighting chance."

"I don't feel like playin' your sick game," Jazz replied bitingly, "You 'Cons can kill me, but I'm not gonna be hunted for sport."

Thundercracker sighed and leaned against the door facing of Jazz's cell. He could feel the warmth of the energy forcefield since he was so close. This wasn't going right at all, but Thundercracker couldn't give up. He had to do something, even if it was small and might not even work.

"Jazz, I'm sorry about Prowl," Thundercracker said contritely, and he could see Jazz's optic ridges raise up in surprise, "I know how it feels to lose someone close to you. Not a day goes by that I don't think about Skywarp. Starscream is my brother, but Skywarp was more than that. He was also my best friend. I know you'll never forgive me, I don't expect you to, but you need to keep living. If you die, then a large portion of Prowl dies too, because only you have those memories. Now, if I unlock the door, will you escape without trying to kill me?"

Jazz was silent for a long moment. Thundercracker was sure that silence meant Jazz could not accept those terms and he would indeed never accept Thundercracker's help, but then...

"I've never heard a 'Con express remorse before," Jazz stated so softly that Thundercracker strained to hear him, "I know trines are important, but I guess I never thought about Starscream's trine havin' those feelin's too. You mechs seem so brainwashed by Megatron that I guess I forgot you were Cybertronians too. I'm curious though, does Starscream actually...do you think he cared enough about Skywarp to miss him?"

"He does," Thundercracker nodded solemnly, "He hides his true nature because Megatron would exploit it, but he has always had our best interests at spark. I must admit though that I believe he would not change if I died. Despite his cowardly nature he is emotionally strong. He would behave exactly the same, I believe."

"Mm," Jazz grunted as he nodded, but then said, "Prowl's death is still on your servos. You'll never be able to wash away his spilled energon, but I think you know that already. That's a punishment that won't ever stop. It's not enough, but it'll have to do. Free me or leave me here, I don't care. I don't expect much from Decepticons. I do hope though that someday you'll be able to come to your senses and abandon this cause. I wouldn't let you in the Autobots, but Prime's a better mech than I am, and I think he would if given the chance."

"I'll keep that in mind," Thundercracker replied wryly; not really keen on the idea of joining the Autobots.

Thundercracker then activated the locking mechanism on Jazz's cell, and Jazz slowly and suspiciously stepped out. He gave Thundercracker a scrutinizing look, and satisfied that he wouldn't be followed, he rushed off into the halls.

Jazz escaped that night, but Thundercracker did not. Shockwave had seen the blue seeker on the security monitors and informed Megatron of all that transpired. That action sealed Thundercracker's fate, and a mere two deca-orns later Megatron faked Thundercracker's death and had the hapless jet turned into the first Eradicon. The new model was supposedly made for Starscream to honor the sacrifice of his brothers, which only added insult to injury.

* * *

As the former VS-5001 thought back on these events he knew he could never tell Starscream the truth. His brother would never have accepted a traitor as a brother, even if they both hated Megatron now. Starscream still believed in the Decepticon cause, so how could Thundercracker ever tell him that he did not?

Just as Thundercracker's thoughts were about to consume him, Starscream came back into the room holding a small grey round device with a series of purple buttons and a black screen.

"I have done it! My latest invention is finished, and in record time too," Starscream bragged as he showed Thundercracker the device, "Oh yeah, I've still got it!"

"Um, what is it?" TC asked as he stared down at the tiny gizmo.

"I have managed to take the technology of the spark reader and make a portable version! Ha ha!" Starscream replied with manic glee, "With this we can find other former Decepticons that have been turned into Vehicons."

"How do we do that?" Thundercracker asked; trying not to seem skeptical despite his confusion.

"Easy," Starscream replied with an undeterred smile, "You look just like every other Eradicon, so if you sneak aboard Megatron's warship the other Decepticons will be none the wiser. You keep this device on you at all times and read the sparks of every Vehicon and Eradicon you come across until you find a Decepticon spark signature. Once you find one, you convince them to come back to the Harbinger with you. Then I will repair their processor, and they will be so grateful to me that they will join my cause to overthrow Megatron and the Autobots! Together we will form a new army, one that will overthrow our former slave masters and rule this rich new world!"

"Sounds ambitious," Thundercracker replied, "I just hope I'm not discovered by the other Eradicons. I mean, I am their commander after all."

"Hm, good point," Starscream mused as he put a claw to his chin, "Alright then, start with Vehicons. We get one Vehicon, and then send him back to find Eradicons. This will work."

"Yes," TC replied with pride in his voice, "Down with Megatron, and long live Lord Starscream."

Starscream laughed a giddy evil laugh at those words. Thundercracker was exactly the missing ingredient to his surreptitious schemes. Now he had his brother, and his brother was now a willing servant to a new empire.

"Thundercracker, when I am ruler of the Decepticons, you shall be my second in command," Starscream promised, "I will see to it that we have everything we desire and more. The mighty Decepticons will overthrow the weakling Autobots and the cruel barbaric Megatron."

Thundercracker couldn't remember ever being as stirred by Starscream's words as he was in that moment. He knew his brother could debate with the best of them, but this was different. It felt as if Thundercracker had a worthy cause to rally around again for the first time in millenia, and he wasn't going to let Starscream down.


	25. The Drone Factor

_Author's Notes: First of all, big news! My novel "The Legend of Yan-Kan Mar" was featured on a blog called "Bite My Book". If you guys want to check it out to see my bio or just to check out other books on the blog, that would be awesome both for me and for the person who hosts the blog :)_

 _Also, I'm sorry this update took so long to post. I meant to have it ready over a month ago, but life and other projects get in the way. I hope this stupidly long chapter makes up for it. Most of this chapter is an AU version of the episode "The Human Factor", however some dialogue has been changed to better fit the narrative of this fanfic. Thank you for checking out my story, and I hope you enjoy this chapter of "My Spark Still Shines" :)_

* * *

Chapter 25

The Drone Factor

Thundercracker flew into the hangar of the Nemesis with the spark scanner tucked away in his cockpit. He did his best to look casual, but he was looking in every direction to make sure no one saw him. Starscream had said he could fit in, but Thundercracker still wasn't sure. He had been gone for weeks. Sure, the officers wouldn't notice one Eradicon being missing, but the other Eradicons would definitely notice. Fortunately the drones respected Starscream, so that might save him in a pinch.

He walked down the halls until he found a group of Vehicons conversing next to the door to the wash racks. He quickly pulled out the scanner and turned it on, hoping that at least one of these drones was someone that would favor Starscream and his ambitious plans.

The names read off were Hoist, Jetstream, Gloworm, Shard, Hauler, and Scrimshaw. Thundercracker typed in each one in the database, but every name belonged to either an Autobot or a civilian. No luck here.

Thundercracker moved on until he found a training room. There were two Vehicons in there in the middle of target practice. He read the sparks, and the names read were Trailbreaker and Hindsight. Neither of these were former Decepticons either, so Thundercracker didn't stick around.

It felt weird that virtually every former comrade that Thundercracker had worked with when he was VS-5001 was either a former Autobot or a neutral. On the one servo it was a good thing that Megatron didn't punish his insubordinate fellow 'Cons like this often, but on the other servo it meant that everyone working here could easily be led to betray the Decepticon cause if they got their memories back. That didn't bode well for Starscream's plans.

As Thundercracker turned the corner he saw that Soundwave was walking by. That mech scared him, as well as most of the troops on board the Nemesis. Still, the drone didn't want to raise suspicion with Megatron's most loyal officer, so he walked past Soundwave slowly and without looking into the communication officer's visor. Soundwave walked past him without a second thought just as he would with any Eradicon, and Thundercracker was grateful in that moment that all drones looked the same.

/Thundercracker, report!/ Starscream's clipped voice blared over the comm.

/Infiltration is successful,/ Thundercracker replied, /No signs of potential subordinates yet. Will continue search./

/Good. Starscream out./

Thundercracker focused back on the task at hand, and saw that he was near the energon vault. There were two Vehicon guards standing there with impassive expressions, and VS-5001 nodded to each of them to let them know he wasn't a threat. As he passed by he turned the scanner back on and read their spark signatures. The names displayed were Frenzy and Huffer.

Thundercracker typed the names into the database. Huffer was a former Wrecker an the son of a current pain in Megatron's side, Bulkhead. Frenzy was...wait.

"It cannot be," Thundercracker whispered to himself as he saw the results for Frenzy's file. It was an extensive list of accomplishments for the Decepticons as one of their top spies, but that wasn't the part that stopped Thundercracker in his tracks. This mech was one of Soundwave's creations!

Thundercracker had to do something, but he didn't know what. A Decepticon that was loyal to Soundwave would never support Starscream. Soundwave and Starscream might have been professional colleagues, but everyone knew Soundwave would never betray Megatron for the sake of the flighty grey seeker. Then again, this was one of Soundwave's own symbiotes, a part of his very spark. How could Thundercracker withhold such information? This could give a loyal Decepticon officer his son back. Thundercracker knew that Soundwave only had one creation left, his beloved Laserbeak. This could change everything for him.

Making his decision, Thundercracker decided he would spy on the former spy until he was off duty, and then make his move. He just hoped Starscream would actually repair the mech once he knew who it actually was.

* * *

Back in the Autobot base, everything was quiet for the mechs and humans. Raf was at home because he was grounded, which was still strange to anyone who knew him. Raf was the very definition of a good kid, and it seemed unfair that him flaking a little on his homework for once in his life was enough to warrant lockdown.

Meanwhile, Miko, Klunker and Saline were having a difficult time getting Bulkhead to exercise.

"Come on, Ironhide has done twice as many reps as you!" Miko urged the big green mech.

"Forget it. I'm never gonna get better," Bulkhead lamented, "Might as well just sit here. I'm not able to fight. What's the point? New guy's got it covered anyway."

"Who? Smokebomb?" Saline asked derisively, "He's a sparkling, Bulkhead. This is your job and you're going to get up to do it. Now listen to the tiny pink human and _lift that ball_!"

"No!" Bulkhead snapped back at his mother, "They don't need me."

"Hey, what's going on?" Smokescreen asked as he walked into the room, "How's your training going, Bulkhead?"

Bulkhead just glared at him and growled, and the ICN couple looked at each other helplessly.

/Say something,/ Saline demanded of Klunker over the comm.

/Say what? He's clearly not in the mood to exercise,/ Klunker replied.

/Do you want his gears to lock up?/ Saline asked demandingly, /Klunker, our son is letting himself waste away! We need to do something!/

/Or maybe we don't,/ Klunker suddenly announced, /Look./

"I don't need a crutch!" Bulkhead shouted furiously at Smokescreen as he knocked an artifact out of the younger 'Bot's servo; the apex armor. The armor of course landed on a computer terminal and broke it; upsetting Ratchet.

Bulkhead then started lifting the lob ball up and down as he worked through his rage at the insinuation that he needed a muscle suit to be a warrior again. Smokescreen shrugged and walked away, and Miko smiled up at the miners who were smiling back down at her.

As this was going on Ratchet and Bluestreak were repairing the machinery that Bulkhead broke when he threw the apex armor too hard. Ratchet was cursing under his breath and Bluestreak was trying to pretend he didn't know what those bad words meant so as to keep the illusion of innocence that no longer fit him.

"Everything that mech touches breaks..." Ratchet continued to grouse about Bulkhead, "Even when he couldn't walk he was still able to break things! Blasted earth technology...fragging glitches...this'll take all day to fix."

"Reminds me of the time I broke an energon dispenser aboard the Nemesis," Bluestreak recalled, "That was back on Cybertron. I was afraid of Lord Megatron finding out I broke it so I hired Swindle to install a new one for me. Since I didn't have any money to pay him I had to give him my gun arm, and then I told the medic Autobots tore it off so I could get a new one. Still took a deca-orn to get it replaced. That was back when Scalpel was the medic. He's dead now."

Ratchet didn't say anything, but his spark still felt troubled when he heard his son's casual description of Decepticon enslavement. Ratchet had to look at it that way, because to admit his son had been a soldier as well as a victim was more than he could bear.

* * *

PLX-7205 had been on guard duty all day and was finally being relieved. He intended to go straight into recharge after a long boring day of just standing in front of the energon room. With Starscream and the Autobots still at large the fuel stores had to be guarded, but at this point PLX-7205 almost wished they _would_ be robbed just so he could move his stiff legs.

As he got closer to his room he noticed the faint sound of pede steps behind him. He wasn't too surprised actually since he had noticed Eradicon VS-5001 standing near him for the past three hours. That flying fool thought he was being so clever by not getting too close, but PLX-7205 knew he was there. Now he was being followed by the oversized metal bird. What could he possibly want?

PLX-7205 didn't feel like playing games with VS-5001. He knew the mech was in charge of the Eradicons but beyond that knew nothing about him. It was safer to not get to know the merchandise when tomorrow they could be dismantled by crazed Autobots or capricious Decepticon officers. Still, this stalking thing was a new one. Maybe VS-5001 was going crazy like a bunch of the other drones that had to be put out of commission.

Not wanting to drag this out, PLX-7205 stopped in the middle of the hallway, backed himself against the wall, and sat down. If he was lucky the Eradicon wouldn't notice his purple paint against the purple walls, but if he did notice that was fine too. He just didn't feel like leading a stalker to his room.

Thundercracker, meanwhile, was reading his spark scanner to let him know where Frenzy was without having to get too close. He wanted to make sure he was alone with the drone just in case Soundwave was listening. Aside from the danger to his own life, he didn't want Soundwave to accidentally kill his own symbiote by turning him in to be dissected by Knockout.

The spark scanner stopped, so Thundercracker stopped. He looked down the hall but didn't see anything. He looked back the way he came but didn't see anything there either. Then he looked down and saw the Vehicon sitting quietly against the wall and looking up at him matter-of-factly.

"Why are you following me, Eradicon?" PLX-7205 asked suspiciously.

"I have something important to tell you," Thundercracker replied in as neutral a tone as he could manage given his internal nervousness and excitement, "I have found a cure for the processor glitch affecting our fellow drones, and I need a healthy specimen to accompany me to the medical site."

"Site? You mean the medbay?" PLX-7205 snarked; not buying this for a moment, "Look, I don't know what's wrong with you but healthy drones don't need a cure, and besides, you couldn't come up with a cure anyway. You're only programmed to shoot things. Get me a note from the medic and I _might_ believe you."

"You would rather be treated by Knockout?" VS-5001 asked incredulously, "Listen, you're more important than you can even imagine. You're not a mere drone. You are a sleeper agent, and I can prove it. I know where Starscream is, and he can cure you. Just come with me, and I'll prove it."

"Go to some unknown location with the crazy guy? No thanks!" PLX-7205 scoffed, "Although, if you know where Starscream is, then I'm sure Dreadwing will be _very_ happy to hear your story. _In the interrogation room_."

"You don't under-" But before Thundercracker could finish talking PLX-7205 shot at the Eradicon; barely missing him.

Thundercracker transformed and took off like a...well, like a jet. PLX-7205 then turned into his car mode and took off after the Eradicon. Thundercracker weaved around the tight spaces of the hallways with finesse, but the Vehicon was gaining on him fast. This was not how the retrieval was supposed to go. Thundercracker might've been a real mech, but he was still a lousy negotiator.

The chase between Thundercracker and PLX-7205 went on for several minutes, but then Thundercracker crashed into someone as he turned a curve. He transformed and fell to the ground, only to see an ominous sight above him...

 _Soundwave_.

PLX-7205 transformed back into robot mode and saluted Soundwave. Soundwave looked between the two drones, though it was impossible to tell how he was feeling due to the black face mask.

"Soundwave, sir! This Eradicon is defective, but claims to know the location of the traitor Starscream," PLX-7205 informed the TIC, "What are your orders, sir?"

"Wait!" Thundercracker exclaimed in a last desperate attempt to save himself and his mission, "Sir, I know this will sound strange to you, even insane, but that Vehicon is your symbiote. His name is Frenzy, and he was turned into a drone by Shockwave. Starscream knows how to fix his memory chip. Please let me take him to Starscream, and Frenzy can regain his memories. You can have your son back. Just give me one chance to prove myself, I beg of you."

The Vehicon, despite the seriousness of the situation, found himself chuckling at the Eradicon's ludicrous story. Soundwave's _son_? There was literally no greater way to ensure his own death than for that Eradicon to suggest a mere drone was a mech's sparkling; especially a mech as powerful as Soundwave. VS-5001 was going to die, and PLX-7205 wondered what kind of torture the drone would endure first.

Soundwave, meanwhile, didn't move. He stared at VS-5001, and the Eradicon wobbled nervously as he struggled to stand up. He had no idea what Soundwave would do to him, if he would believe him, or if he would simply turn him in to Megatron for his blasphemy. Thundercracker only hoped that he would live for a little longer to aid Starscream in finding at least one other drone to continue his plan.

Finally, after a moment of silent staring, Soundwave suddenly backhanded VS-5001 with such force that the Eradicon was knocked back a couple meters before hitting the ground hard. He felt of his helmet, and the jawline was dented. He looked up to see Soundwave walk away from them, and PLX-7205 ran after and caught up to their commanding officer.

"Soundwave sir! Do you want me to lock up the defective?" PLX-7205 asked.

Soundwave shook his helm no, and then turned around to regard PLX-7205. The drone bowed his helm respectfully, knowing this mech despite being third in command was for all intents and purposes second only to Megatron. Soundwave raised his servo to PLX-7205, and the Vehicon cringed in preparation for a blow, but none came. Soundwave's servo just stayed in the air between them for a moment before he put it back down at his side. He then turned back and walked toward where he left VS-5001.

Thundercracker was walking toward the hangar when he saw Soundwave walking toward him once again. He considered flying away, but he knew the former gladiator-turned-communications-officer was faster than him, so he stayed where he was. He only hoped Soundwave wasn't there to finish the job.

Soundwave stopped in his tracks just as he was about to approach the Eradicon, and then he motioned for Thundercracker to come closer. Thundercracker reluctantly obeyed, and Soundwave displayed Cybertronian glyphs on his mask.

::Megatron beckons me. Follow me, Eradicon.::

Thundercracker knew this could not be good, but he didn't want to disobey Soundwave. That mech was the scariest one on the ship, maybe even more so than Megatron himself. With no other viable choice, Thundercracker trudged behind Soundwave and followed him to whatever fate might await him.

* * *

Back in the Autobot base the computer's comm system blared; indicating a call from Agent Fowler. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch as Prime answered the call.

"Prime! We got a situation," Fowler's voice boomed on the other side of the screen, "We think Megatron is working with MECH. Apparently the 'Cons have stolen a valuable top secret government project. You may remember it. Codename Project Damocles."

"Damocles? Was that not-" Prime started to ask.

"Yep," Fowler interrupted, "Silas' pet project."

"Who has a pet?" Skywarp hollered from the other side of the room.

"Who was that?" Fowler asked.

Skywarp then came closer to the screen along with Jazz, Bluestreak, Klunker, and Saline. Skywarp waved to the camera, and Fowler's eyes bugged out in disbelief at what he saw.

"Great liberty's ghost! They're multiplying!" Fowler exclaimed, "Prime, you said you had _a_ Vehicon. _A_ , as in _one_! Now you're collecting them like commemorative coins! Are you sure your area is secure?"

"Rest assured, Agent Fowler. These Vehicons are not a threat to you or anyone else on this planet," Optimus replied stoically.

"As long as we watch where we step," Skywarp added cheekily.

Fowler then groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, whatever," Fowler sighed in defeat, "We have bigger problems on our hands anyway. Apparently the 'Cons are working with Silas. Breakdown was seen stealing the prototype for Project Damocles, so we therefore suspect that Silas might be alive and assisting Megatron."

"Dude, how could Silas be alive?" Miko asked skeptically, "He was flattened like a pancake back during the whole Nemesis Prime thing."

"Who's Silas?" Jazz asked.

"Breakdown is alive?" Bluestreak asked at the same time.

"Humans can turn into pancakes?" Skywarp asked at the same time as them.

"One at a time, people!" Fowler snapped, "Alright, first of all, Breakdown was at the scene stealing Damocles. Second, Silas' death has neither been confirmed or denied. Third, is there something wrong with that Vehicon?" He asked as he pointed to Skywarp.

"No, there's nothing wrong with him," Bluestreak defended Skywarp.

"Yeah, I have 1,285 confirmed kills," Skywarp added; thinking that helped his case.

"I thought it was 825," Klunker muttered to Saline.

"Prime!" Fowler shouted anxiously.

"Everything is alright," Prime assured Agent Fowler, "We will be on the lookout for Breakdown or any other Decepticon activity."

"Be careful, Prime," Fowler warned, "Damocles is a serious threat to all of us. It's an orbital satellite that can be remotely controlled by whoever has the interface codes, and the 'Cons just stole it. We're talking death laser."

"Really?" Skywarp asked; interested, "Hey guys, does that mean we picked the wrong side?"

"Shut up, Skywarp!" Jazz shouted, "I'm tryin' to hear what they're sayin'."

"The server is stored in a military base in Colorado. I'll send you the coordinates now. We cannot allow that server to fall into Decepticon hands. Don't let us down, 'Bots," Fowler said solemnly, "The world is counting on you. If Megatron controls that laser, he could char any place he wants like a 4th of July barbecue. I'll be there to assist shortly. Fowler out."

The transmission was then cut, leaving the Autobots with more questions than answers as Ratchet started working on locating any Decepticon signals in the area.

"It's been a while since Breakdown showed his ugly face plate," Bulkhead commented, "Optimus, you gotta let me in on this mission. This is finally my chance to get back at that good for nothing slagger."

"But he's dead," Bluestreak said quietly, "Airachnid killed him. He's dead. Dreadwing saw it. How could he be...?"

"Maybe he survived," Jazz guessed, "I mean, no one recovered the body. Maybe he got whacked on the helm and forgot who he was until recently. Maybe his comm was broken. Maybe he was trackin' down Airachnid and gave up."

"Yeah, maybe," Bluestreak replied in a hopeful tone of voice, "Maybe MECH found a way to...well, what if they can revive the dead? What if he's a Terrorcon now?"

"That's ridiculous," Ratchet scoffed, "Bluestreak, Breakdown is not a Terrorcon. Bulkhead, you are not clear to leave the medbay. Everyone else, go back to what you were doing until we find a signal."

"You're the boss, Doc," Jazz shrugged goodnaturedly as he walked away from the conversation and the room.

"But Ratchet!" Bulkhead whined.

"Ep, ep, ep,!" Ratchet stifled Bulkhead's complaints, "Doctor's orders."

Bulkhead huffed and crossed his arms, and Klunker and Saline put their arms around each other's backs. They were just happy that Bulkhead wanted to get out and fight again, even if they knew he couldn't. It meant he was recovering and everything would be okay.

* * *

Soundwave entered the control room with PLX-7205 and VS-5001 in tow. He knew of the corrupted signal from Breakdown the ship had received, but what he saw when he entered the room made even _his_ energon run cold. What was supposed to be Breakdown was nothing but a shambling rotting corpse.

"Knockout, what is this _abomination_ and why have you brought it here!?" Megatron bellowed at the medic as a battered and altered Breakdown stood before him.

"I am Cylas, as in Cybernetic Life Augmented By Symbiosis," The alleged Breakdown introduced himself.

Well, that was an odd development. Soundwave was stunned by what had transpired and even Megatron seemed rattled. Thundercracker and PLX-7205 didn't quite understand what was happening, but then-

"This is the human that dissected Breakdown!" Knockout shouted accusingly as he pointed to Breakdown, or technically Cylas, "Please my liege, allow me to return the favor!"

Knockout then turned his servo into a saw and stepped closer to the former brute. There was murder in his red and black optics, and Soundwave almost respected him in that moment. Knockout had gone through the trouble of leading Cylas into a trap just so he could avenge his former friend. It was macabre, but Soundwave had to admit he would do the same thing in Knockout's situation. In fact, a few times he had.

"I propose you not overlook an asset that gives Prime an advantage," Cylas spoke smoothly and calmly despite Knockout's threat, "At least on this world."

"And that would be?" Megatron asked skeptically.

"The _human factor_." Cylas replied conspiratorially.

"Look around you, _Cylas_ ," Megatron spat out the name in disgust, "I command an army from a mighty warship. What could a mere human possibly have to offer?"

"I am no ordinary human, and this is no ordinary weapon," Cylas replied confidently as he gestured to a briefcase sitting nearby.

Soundwave scanned the case and saw that it was some sort of satellite laser. It was mildly impressive, but if given enough time Soundwave could probably reverse engineer it. He didn't say this however because he had other issues on his processor. He needed to get Knockout's attention away from Cylas long enough to enlist his services with the Vehicons. Soundwave more than most mechs understood the liability a Vehicon with a memory could be, and understood more than most the credibility of the Eradicon's proclamation.

 _Frenzy_. Soundwave was sure that Vehicon was not his symbiote. Megatron only used the raw materials from Autobots and weakling civilians for his drone army. He was sure Frenzy died on a mission at the hands of Autobots, but at the same time the feeling that something wasn't right kept niggling away at the communications officer. What if he was wrong? What if Frenzy had accidentally ended up in one of Shockwave's machines? What then?

"...with pinpoint precision," Cylas concluded his presentation, and Soundwave mentally kicked himself for not paying attention.

"And what is it that you want in return?" Megatron asked; intrigued by the weapon's possibilities.

"Merely a place at the table," Cylas declared with fake humility.

"Soundwave," Megatron addressed his TIC, "You will retrieve the interface code for us to activate and control the weapon. You will be given 20 Vehicon troops to command."

Soundwave nodded as he always did after receiving an order. The first thought that came to his mind was that he finally got a fun mission. Travel and hacking. Who could ask for more? His second thought was toward the Vehicon and Eradicon that were giving him so much trouble at the moment.

He passed by the two, who were still standing by the doorway. Soundwave looked at them, and they nervously looked back at him. He then pointed to the ground, indicating that he didn't want them to leave that spot. Both drones nodded meekly and took their positions. When the Damocles mission was over then Soundwave would deal with whatever malfunction was befalling these drones, whether it be mental, physical, or systemic.

* * *

Team Prime ground-bridged to Colorado to protect the interface codes from the Decepticons, however when they got there the entire area was under Vehicon guard. This was going to be a problem, since they knew what would be lost if even one more Vehicon was killed in battle.

/Go for the entrance,/ Optimus advised the others over the comm, /However, don't shoot at the Vehicons. Attack physically if you have to, but do not terminate them. Are we clear?/

/We're clear, Prime,/ Arcee replied.

/Got'cha,/ Chromia agreed.

[I just hope we're not too late,] Bumblebee added.

/Are we sure they're _all_ Autobots?/ Smokescreen asked for clarification.

/Smokescreen!/ Arcee snapped at him.

/Alright, alright, I'm sorry!/ Smokescreen replied defensively, /I just don't feel like getting scrapped by zombies today, okay?/

/Kid, you are _so_ lucky Ratchet didn't come with us or you'd be in real trouble,/ Chromia laughed over the comm signal, /You know how he feels about his kid bein' called a zombie./

Prime then drove ahead in his truck mode, leading to the other Autobots to follow him quickly to catch up. They drove up to the Vehicons, who then began shooting without letup. The Autobots transformed into robot mode and dodged the attacks being directed at them, but they couldn't dodge every shot. It was hard to attack Vehicons without shooting them because nobody could get close enough.

Smokescreen skidded close to one of the Vehicons and tackled it to the ground, punching it repeatedly in the face in an effort to knock it unconscious without killing it. The other Autobots couldn't even seem to get that close due to all the shooting. It was pure chaos on the battlefield, and then something happened to let them know they were already too late.

"Smokescreen, look out!" Arcee shouted as she pointed up.

His gaze went toward the night sky, where an orange beam of light was heading right for him! It was Damocles, and apparently the Decepticons were already controlling it.

Smokescreen jumped up right away to dodge the laser, and as he ran away from the light he heard a soft groan. It was the Vehicon he had been punching before, and it was directly in the way of the laser!

Smokescreen without even thinking ran back for the drone, and everyone shouted for him to come back since he wouldn't have enough time to retrieve the Vehicon without getting blown to bits himself.

The Vehicon came out of his daze in time to see the laser coming right for him, and the drone was sure this was the end. He like so many others would die on duty. Just as the light was coming for him however, The drone felt a hard push and barely had time to process what had happened before the shockwave from the blast knocked him and his rescuer back and into the wall of the building.

The Autobots were still locked in combat, but Arcee managed to break away to check on Smokescreen. She saw that he and the Vehicon had been knocked into a wall, but was surprised to find they were both still conscious. Smokescreen's right pede had been hit by the blast and was completely gone, and he was leaking energon pretty badly. The Vehicon was uninjured.

The Vehicon looked around to see what had happened and saw that an Autobot was laying next to him with a missing pede and another Autobot was running closer to them. The white and blue Autobot had come back for him. An Autobot had saved his life. That made no sense from any angle. They were enemies, and the drones weren't even real mechs. So why would an Autobot save him?

"Smokescreen," Arcee called out when she got close enough, and the Vehicon drew his gun arm out and aimed it at her, "Hey, put that away, will you? I don't wanna hurt you."

"Why not?" The Vehicon asked, "This is crazy! We're enemies! Why did he save me?"

"Hey, _he_ is right here," Smokescreen groaned sarcastically, "And you're welcome."

"We're gonna need to get you back to base," Arcee told Smokescreen, "No way can you continue with an injury this bad. You're leaking energon pretty badly."

"Hey, it's cool. I'll be fine, just help Team Prime stop that laser," Smokescreen assured her, "I can tell you from experience that that laser really hurts."

Smokescreen's attempt at lightening the mood fell flat, and Arcee was close to calling for a ground bridge, but then she noticed the drone turn its gun arm into a welder and close the leak in Smokescreen's leg.

"Ow! Hey! What are you doing?" Smokescreen protested.

"I'm saving your life," The Vehicon replied, " _You're_ _welcome_."

Arcee couldn't help but laugh at that line, though Smokescreen merely pouted and crossed his arms like a spoiled child.

"Hey, I didn't know Vehicons had those kinds of additions to their limbs," Arcee commented after a moment.

"They don't," The drone replied, "I made this last month. I get hit a lot in battle and wanted to be able to fix myself without seeing Knockout. That guy has been really testy lately. I think he's secretly sabotaging Megatron by killing all the drones. Well, I'm not gonna be in those numbers. No way."

"You will if you stay with ol' Buckethead," Smokescreen pointed out, "You know, you don't have to go back to Megatron if you don't want to. We've been taking in Vehicons that want a better life away from the Decepticons. Think about it, no more Knockout, no more being cannon fodder, and you'll be treated as equals. You won't be a slave anymore if you come with us. What do you say?"

"I think you're insane," The Vehicon replied point blank, "I might not like my job, but it's my duty and I won't abandon it. I'm still your enemy, but I'll call a truce this time because you saved my life. Farewell, Autobot."

With those words the Vehicon left the duo and rejoined the fighting with the other Vehicons against the other Autobots. Arcee sighed and Smokescreen scratched his helm anxiously.

"I can't believe it," Smokescreen finally said after a minute of silence, "He said no. I told him he could be freed from Megatron, and he still said no. Why?"

"We know the Vehicons are slaves, but they don't know that," Arcee pointed out, "To that Vehicon his choice was a logical one. He thinks he has honor as a loyalist to Megatron. He doesn't understand what was done to him."

"Should I have told him?" Smokescreen asked, "Do you think it would've made a difference?"

"I don't know, Smokescreen," Arcee replied ruefully, "I just don't know."

* * *

Ratchet was connected to Prime's comm and could hear the struggle Optimus and the others were having against the Vehicon troops. Soundwave was likely already controlling the laser, and their hopes of ever reclaiming the dangerous satellite rested in the small but capable hands of Rafael, who was hacking into the system from his house.

"Come on, Ratchet!" Bulkhead practically pleaded, "They need backup! You gotta let me do it. This is Breakdown we're talking about! He's my arch rival."

"You're not clear for duty," Ratchet replied with authority.

"But I'm rusting over here!" Bulkhead countered.

"Ironhide isn't going either, but I don't hear him griping about it," Ratchet retorted.

"Ironhide snuck out three hours ago to watch a double feature at the drive-in," Jazz informed them.

Ratchet grumbled under his breath about stubborn old mechs and rubbed his face with his hand.

"Ratchet, I can help," Bulkhead pleaded, "Team Prime needs me."

Finally, after looking Bulkhead right in his desperate cyan optics, Ratchet sighed and said "Fine, you're cleared for duty."

"Yes!" Bulkhead exclaimed and fist pumped.

"A duty of my choosing," Ratchet added, making Bulkhead stop his celebration in his tracks, "And I insist you take qualified medical assistance with you."

"What? You're going with me?" Bulkhead asked in disappointment.

"Not me, Bluestreak," Ratchet told him.

"Me?" Bluestreak asked apprehensively, "But I don't do well in close combat. What if I choke? Or freeze?"

"There will be no combat," Ratchet assured him, earning a groan from Bulkhead, "I'm sending you both out on patrol duty to watch the kids. They might require your assistance."

"Alright! Road trip!" Skywarp cheered.

"Ep, ep, ep! You're not going, Decepticon," Ratchet snapped, earning a moan from Skywarp this time, "You stay here. This is just a mission for Bluestreak and Bulkhead. Now, if you want to make yourself useful..."

Ratchet then handed Skywarp a mop, and Skywarp looked at it the way Miko looks at a math test. Finally resigning himself to his fate, Skywarp left the room.

Ratchet then activated the ground bridge, and the duo were off to patrol Rafael's suburban neighborhood.

...

Bulkhead and Bluestreak drove along in silence for five minutes. It wasn't long, but it still felt awkward for both of them. Bulkhead hated to admit it, but driving next to a Vehicon still felt wrong somehow. He liked Bluestreak well enough, and he even trusted him, but seeing that shiny purple car so close to him still made Bulkhead feel uneasy. It just looked too much like an enemy was cornering him.

Bluestreak felt uncomfortable for a different reason, however. He couldn't stand silence for long periods of time, especially if there was someone to talk to so close. He really did want Bulkhead to be his friend, but it didn't seem like the two had anything in common other than being Autobots, but that was a new development for Bluestreak.

"Hey Bulkhead," Bluestreak spoke up in an effort to start a conversation, "Why did the chicken go to the other side?"

"The other side of what?" Bulkhead asked in confusion.

"Um...Huh, I never thought of that," Bluestreak replied contemplatively, "The punchline of the joke is 'Because it wanted to cross the road'. I, uh, I don't really get it either to be honest, and I'm not even sure I'm telling it right."

"Oh, so it was a joke," Bulkhead commented with feigned interest.

"Um, yeah, it was a joke," Bluestreak replied awkwardly, "I'm sorry if I annoyed you. I know you didn't ask for- Breakdown!"

"Huh?" Bulkhead grunted.

"Around the corner! Breakdown's gonna shoot the house!" Bluestreak shrieked in panic.

Before Bluestreak could even finish his sentence Bulkhead was driving toward the blue brute at full speed. He rammed into Breakdown and drove him into a ravine. The two heavyweights then transformed and faced each other. Bulkhead expected Bluestreak to follow him into the ravine and offer backup, but instead he saw the Vehicon driving away in the opposite direction.

"That traitor!" Bulkhead shouted indignantly.

"It seems your minion has deserted you," 'Breakdown' taunted Bulkhead, "That just leaves you and me."

"Breakdown?" Bulkhead asked nervously, "No, you're not Breakdown."

"No, but you are Bulkhead, a Wrecker," The alleged Breakdown replied as he advanced closer, "You are the muscle of Team Prime. Not too bright though. This should be a fairly simple challenge."

That was when it clicked for Bulkhead. He knew _exactly_ whose voice that was.

"Silas?" Bulkhead asked as his optics widened in horror and realization.

"In the flesh, so to speak," Cylas replied.

"What did you do?" Bulkhead asked accusingly, "What happened to Breakdown?"

"The same thing that's going to happen to _you_ ," Cylas replied; a sinister edge in his tone.

Then Cylas advanced on Bulkhead, and Bulkhead attempted to dodge, but he was too slow and got hit square in the jaw. Bulkhead staggered and hobbled over to attack Cylas. Unfortunately Cylas picked up on Bulkhead's stalled movements.

"You're moving slowly," Cylas commented as he came closer to attack again, "And favoring your right side. Too easy."

Cylas attacked again, and this time Bulkhead fell down hard on the ground.

Meanwhile Bluestreak had driven around so that he could stand on top of the bridge overlooking the ravine. He knew he would be of no use to Bulkhead in a close combat situation. No, Bluestreak's specialty was sharpshooting attacks from long distances.

Bluestreak looked through his scope to see what was happening. Bulkhead and Breakdown were fighting, though it was clearly one-sided as Breakdown was in far better shape than Bulkhead. That was saying something considering how crummy Breakdown looked at the moment.

Then Bulkhead was thrown down on the ground. Breakdown approached him slowly with a smug grin on his face plate as he turned his servo into a hammer. Bluestreak tensed as he readied his gun arm. Unwanted memories clouded his processor. He remembered when he saved Breakdown's life by shooting Bulkhead at long range. Now he would do the same for Bulkhead against Breakdown. For a brief moment he considered not firing, but what would his sire think of him then?

Forcing himself to look at Breakdown's face through the scope, Bluestreak fired a sabot round and aimed for a non-vital part of the large mech's chassis. Just one shot and Breakdown was unconscious.

Bulkhead, meanwhile, couldn't figure out what had happened at first. Breakdown had been ready to scrap him, but then suddenly Breakdown was shot and thrown several feet away. Bulkhead looked around but didn't see anyone. Who had saved him? Then, he caught a glimpse of a purple car driving on the bridge. Bluestreak hadn't abandoned him after all.

When Bluestreak made it to the ravine Bulkhead had managed to stand up, but he was still unsure on his pedes. Cylas was still unconscious.

"Are you alright, Bulkhead?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yeah, though apparently I've been replaced by a machine," Bulkhead joked.

"Very funny," Bluestreak retorted as he lightly punched Bulkhead on the arm, "I am sorry though. I know this fight was between you and Breakdown. I probably should not have interfered."

"That's not Breakdown," Bulkhead informed him, "That's Silas."

"Silas?" Bluestreak gasped, "B...B-Breakdown...used to have nightmares...about Silas," Bluestreak stammered as he stared down at the body of his deceased friend, "I can't believe he did this to Breakdown. What kind of monster...? You know what? Megatron and Silas deserve each other. They're exactly the same. They use mechs for their own purposes and don't give a slag about who they hurt. The Nemesis can have him!"

"You're awfully emotional about this," Bulkhead noted, "I mean, I'm freaked out too, but...Breakdown was evil. He ain't worth mourning."

"You didn't know him like I did," Bluestreak replied bitterly, "Breakdown befriended many Vehicons like me. We did stuff together, and we talked about things. Personal things or even just stupid small talk. He didn't know about the Vehicon conspiracy. I know he didn't, otherwise he never would have showed me my spark."

"Showed you what?" Bulkhead asked as he tried to figure out what Bluestreak meant.

"Vehicons are taught that we have no sparks," Bluestreak explained, "Breakdown was a medical assistant though, so he knew better. He was the only Decepticon officer to treat me like I mattered. He was the first one to ever make me feel worthy. Like I could do great things too.

"Wow, I didn't know that about him," Bulkhead replied quietly, "All I ever saw was how destructive he could be."

"Um, if you don't mind my asking," Bluestreak said hesitantly, "Why do you hate Breakdown so much?"

"He destroyed my home town," Bulkhead replied almost casually, though Bluestreak knew it was likely a touchy subject, "Not where I was living I mean, but where I grew up. He and the other Stunticons were assigned to destroy every home and company store on Sulfur Hill."

"I've never heard of Sulfur Hill," Bluestreak commented.

"It's a mining town just outside Iacon," Bulkhead replied, "Back then I wasn't even an Autobot yet. I was just an average mech working a construction job in the city. I had no idea what was going on until I saw the news coverage. The Stunticons leveled everything and killed any miner or civilian they could find. Sparklings were stepped on like they were garbage, mini-drillers were crushed under hammers and fists, and miners were shot one by one execution style. Then there was the image I will never forget. There was a photo of Breakdown smashing a shingle and tar shack to pieces with his hammers and there was dripping energon on his pedes. That shack was where my parents lived. That's when I knew...Breakdown killed my parents."

"Um, you mean the same parents that are back at base watching TV right now?" Bluestreak asked pointedly.

Bulkhead's optics widened when he realized what he and Bluestreak had both just said. Bulkhead had spent so much time hating Breakdown for what he did to his parents, and yet...

"He's innocent," Bulkhead whispered into the night air, "All this time, and he didn't do it. Don't get me wrong, Breakdown still had a lot to answer for, but...they're still alive. Megatron destroyed their bodies, but not their sparks. Bluestreak, how many hundreds of Autobots must be feeling as bitter and angry as I felt? How many of them are wrong too?"


	26. Piece of Oil Cake

_Author's Notes: Well, I'm not waiting until Friday to upload this chapter because I didn't post anything on Friday and you lovely readers have waited long enough. I've been super busy lately with working on jobs for clients, but I finally managed to carve out a moment to write this chapter. Good news, it's a long one. LOL! Thank you to everyone who had read, favorited, and reviewed this story. You guys are great audience :)_

* * *

Chapter 26

Piece of Oil Cake

"I _missed_ it?!" Ironhide exclaimed after the other Autobots explained what happened, "There was a big fight that even _Bulkhead_ got to go to, and I missed it! Stupid triple feature! The movies weren't even that good."

"Look on the bright side," Jazz replied, "The 'Cons'll likely scrap Cylas for parts."

"I guess," Ironhide muttered as he crossed his arms over his chassis, "I'm just itchin' to do stuff. I'm sick of being laid up with this stupid tox-en paralysis."

"Me too," Bulkhead agreed, "But hey, at least we're getting better."

"Easy for you to say, lugnut. You got to go fight," Ironhide grumbled, "So, where's Arcee?"

"I don't know, sweet spark," Chromia shrugged, "After we came back she went down the hall, and I ain't seen her since."

"I'll go look for her," Ironhide announced, "It'll give me somethin' to do besides feel my aft rust."

With those words Ironhide left the group to discuss their latest adventure. Normally Ironhide liked hearing talk about 'Con crushing, but lately it just wasn't the same. Not only were the Autobots being forced to pull their punches, but Ironhide hadn't actually been able to contribute to the team since the artifact hunt went so wrong. Ironhide could still see that Insecticon hovering over the volcano taunting their efforts as Bulkhead and Ironhide struggled to carry that toxic energon to the top and throw it into the lava. If the two bruisers hadn't taken turns carrying that stuff it would've been a disaster. A lone Autobot could've died from that much exposure to that poisonous substance.

Ironhide checked Arcee's quarters, but she wasn't in there. He checked the main room again, the medbay, and the storage room. No matter where Ironhide looked was no sign of his daughter.

Then he remembered that they had made a grave marker for Cliffjumper on top of the mesa that concealed the base. Nodding to himself, Ironhide took the elevator to the top and sure enough, she was sitting there next to the pile of rocks that served as a primitive memorial to their fallen comrade.

"Hey, sparklet," Ironhide drawled as he struggled to sit next to Arcee, "You doin' alright up here?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure," Arcee replied distractedly, "Sire...Do you remember the first mission you went on with me and Cliff?"

"I remember you called him a motor-mouthed aft," Ironhide smirked.

Arcee huffed indignantly but then smiled wanly and settled onto Ironhide's shoulder guard. She had wanted to be alone, but she made an exception for her sire. After all, he and her carrier understood her better than anyone.

"Sire, I know this is going to sound really screwed up, but...I think I'm jealous of Ratchet," Arcee told him as she continued to look at the blue sky above them.

"You wanna be a crusty old medic?" Ironhide snorted jokingly, "Well, it'll take some doin', but I think after a few hundred thousand vorns you'll be ugly enough to fill his pedes."

"Very funny, Sire!" Arcee remarked as she pushed him away teasingly, "But no. I actually meant I'm jealous of him and Bluestreak. I look at Cliff's grave, and I try so hard to remember the good times we shared, but...I always remember that he's not really buried here. His body is in some deep chasm shambling aimlessly or else so depleted of energon that he finally died for real."

"What do you mean, sparklet?" Ironhide asked obliviously.

"Megatron turned Cliffjumper into a Terrorcon," Arcee explained.

Ironhide gasped in shock and asked "Terrorcon? You mean to tell me those are real?"

"As real as you or me," Arcee growled softly, "Starscream killed Cliffjumper, and then Megatron turned him into...I can't even describe it. He was like an animal. It wasn't even really Cliffjumper, but just some empty sparkless monster using his body. I wanted so much to save him Sire..." By this point she had started to cry, "When his spark signature came back online for a brief moment I had hope, but when I saw him like that it was all gone. Now with this whole thing with the Vehicons...I'm grateful that some of our friends and loved ones will be returned to us, but that will never happen for me. My friend Tailgate was butchered right in front of my optics, and Cliffjumper was...I just can't help but think about everything we'll never have now."

"There, there, Arcee," Ironhide soothed as he pulled her close to him protectively, "I know it hurts. So many of us have lost loved ones. I liked Cliffjumper too. Thought he'd make a great son-in-law. He was certainly handsome enough."

"Sire, you only say that because he had the same color paint job as you when you two met," Arcee smirked despite how she still felt.

"I know, you two looked like a younger version of me and Chromia," Ironhide said fondly as he remembered that time, "Mech also shared the same interest in really big cannons as I did, though you were right to say he talked a lot."

"Yeah, he and Bluestreak would've really gotten along," Arcee replied wistfully, "Sire, I miss him. Is it sick that I wish he had been turned into a Vehicon? I'd rather have an incomplete mate than none at all. The others at least have hope that some of their loved ones can come back. I guess I shouldn't wallow in self pity like this, huh?"

"Yeah, that won't solve nothin'," Ironhide agreed, "You know what will though? Exactly what you and the rest of us are doin' right now. Findin' Vehicons, findin' relics, and stoppin' Megatron before he does any more damage. Cliffjumper might not be around to say it, but I know he'd be proud of you. I know because I'm proud of you, and so is your carrier. You've survived things that would've killed weaker Cybertronians. You hurt, but you still manage to pick up the pieces. Someday this war will end, and when it does you'll get to live life the way you were supposed to before all this scrap went down."

"I don't know if I would fit in with a world at peace," Arcee admitted ruefully, "I've spent my whole life running and fighting. I'm not sure I can start over again."

Ironhide sighed tiredly at her confession. When next he looked at her his optics looked so much older than she remembered them ever looking.

"I'd wanted to give you so much more than this," Ironhide said heavily as his shoulder guards slumped, "When your carrier and I found you in the rubble of that foundlin' home in Iacon we dreamed of a quick end to the war. We wanted to move into a little house outside Iacon and give you a good sparklinghood. We would've become crystal harvesters and lived off the land. You would've had any pet your spark desired and we would've sent you to a good school in the city. Now you're grown, your fiancé is dead, and Chromia and I are literally as old as the hills surroundin' this fraggin clubhouse. We have to end this war soon. Even if I can't see it, I want you to live in that bright new world with no Decepticons, no gunfire, and no hatred. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

Arcee's optics welled up with cleaning fluid and she silently cried at his words. She hugged her sire, both of them so strong yet so frail, and she allowed herself one moment of vulnerability.

* * *

Bluestreak had a fitful time trying to recharge that night. It wasn't just the mission with Bulkhead and having to shoot Breakdown's remains. If that had been his only problem he could've talked about it with his sire, but it wasn't. No, the real pain started for him after he got home.

"A human living in a dead corpse?" Jazz asked in shock, "Well, now I've heard everythin'."

"That's sick," Skywarp breathed, but then said, "So did you poke him?"

"What?" Bluestreak asked cluelessly.

"When you KO'ed the human. Did you poke him?" Skywarp asked again; prodding for any juice details, "I would've poked him with a stick."

"That's _disgusting_ ," Bluestreak groaned longsufferingly, "Besides, he could've killed Bulkhead. I wasn't exactly thinking about having fun at that moment."

"Why not?" Skywarp asked almost innocently, "Crushing enemies _is_ fun. I mean, it's a shambling sorta-dead body, so it was probably a piece of oil cake for you to take him down. Just shoot him in the spark and BLAM! Insta-roadkill."

"What did you say?" Bluestreak asked suddenly as his frame started involuntarily shaking.

"Uh...insta-roadkill?" Skywarp replied uncertainly, "It's like roadkill only...faster...I guess."

Bluestreak didn't know what else to say, so he turned and walked away from his fellow Vehicons. Jazz and Skywarp called for him to come back, but Bluestreak just couldn't handle standing there at that moment. His processor was starting to flood with memories, not all of them pleasant, and all because of the word _oil cake_.

* * *

"You sure you don't wanna come with us?" Bluestreak asked Sunstreaker as he and Sideswipe stood by the entrance of their secret cave.

"Positive," Sunstreaker snorted, "Last time we went down there Sire threw a fit at seeing how we had blemished our pristine paint jobs. Our color nanites are very expensive, you know."

"I'll just clean up before we get home," Sideswipe replied dismissively, "I promise bro, Sire won't know I was even down there."

"Just be careful, alright?" Sunstreaker admonished his twin.

"Of course, no problem," Sideswipe replied with an easy grin, "Blue and I will be back before you can say 'come back with my polish you aft'."

Sideswipe then pulled a tube of polish out of his subspace and dove down into the hole that was the entrance to the cave.

"What the-? Come back with my polish, you aft!" Sunstreaker shouted furiously and shook his fist in the air.

Bluestreak knew that murderous look and decided he didn't want to be Sideswipe's understudy, so he dove into the cave to catch up with his red friend. Sunstreaker decided it wasn't worth chasing them down the hole, so he sat on the quartz surface of the field and waited for his idiot brother and idiot friend.

"Whew! Sideswipe, I wish you wouldn't do that," Bluestreak sighed as he followed Sideswipe down the dark path to the pool of energon with the swimming mollusks in it, "One day he might hurt you."

"Nah, Sunny would never hurt me," Sideswipe replied as he draped his arms behind his helm in a casual manner, "I trust him more than anyone else in the world. We've always got each other's backs. Kind of like you and Prowl, only with more competition since we're the same age."

"I wish Prowl was still here and not at the Police Academy in Iacon," Bluestreak lamented.

"It's only a few kliks away," Sideswipe pointed out, "He still visits."

"Yeah, but it's not the same," Bluestreak insisted, "He used to protect me from the bullies, but now he can't."

"Sunny and I helped you get back at Tracks, right?" Sideswipe pointed out.

"Right," Bluestreak conceded, "But I can't always tell you when something's wrong. We can't play pranks on the bad guys if we can't comm each other about it, and we're not allowed to use comms in school. I'd rather just get beat up than force you and Sunstreaker to fight my battles anyway."

"That's stupid," Sideswipe scoffed, "You should tell us. Sunny is really strong, and while I might be less strong I'm also the smart one. Any random objects that can be used to prank, I'll use them. Nobody can beat me!"

"If you know what's going on," Bluestreak pointed out, "But I can't always tell you, especially not in school."

"Hm, this is a tough one," Sideswipe said thoughtfully, "Sunny and I can speak to each other over our bond, so we don't need comms. We can't talk to you though, and you can't talk to us. What we need is a way to tell each other if we're in danger and need help. Hey, that's it! We need a code word!"

"What's that?" Bluestreak asked ignorantly.

"A code word is something army guys use when their comms are offline," Sideswipe explained, "We just need a word for danger. Something that the three of us can all know and tell each other if we need to be bailed out of something. It has to be kind of an odd word so there's no mistake, but not a word that would sound stupid in conversations like _verily_ or anything like that."

"Heh heh, verily," Bluestreak snickered.

"Okay then...a good code word...how about the universal greeting?" Sideswipe asked.

"I never learned it," Bluestreak replied glumly, "To me it just sounds like gibberish. How about _chassis polish_?"

"Nah, Sunny would actually use that in everyday conversation," Sideswipe dismissed the idea, "How about _slag face_?"

"I'm not allowed to curse," Bluestreak shot down that idea, "What about _oil cake_?"

"Hm... _oil cake_. I like it," Sideswipe replied with a smile, "It's a normal word to say, but not a common one. Okay then. We'll run the code word by Sunny when we go back up to the surface. That way we'll always know when to bail each other out."

"Great idea, Sideswipe," Bluestreak nodded, "How did you get so smart?"

"I dunno. School?" Sideswipe asked, but then a moment later started laughing at the irony. They both knew he never paid attention in class.

* * *

Over the school vorn the trio of troublemakers used their secret code word every time they needed something. Bluestreak would use it if Tracks was getting too close to their location so they could get away from him. Sideswipe once used it when he wanted Bluestreak to pull the fire alarm for him so he could get out of a test. That wasn't the intent of the code word, but Bluestreak wanted to keep his cool friends so he did as he was told. Sunstreaker never used the code word, asserting he never needed help from anyone. The other two rolled with it, but they knew he was just trying to act cool to keep his bad boy reputation.

Their routine had changed little over that period of time. After school the trio would find some place to hang out and get into trouble. It was usually racing, though sometimes it was exploring. There were times when Bluestreak would invite the twins over to play video games and hang out. Ratchet wasn't fond of the twins and their corrupting influence, but he knew they were Bluestreak's only friends, so he didn't kick them out. He settled for complaining under his vocalizer out of audial range.

One thing that puzzled Bluestreak after a while was how Sunny and Sides never invited him to their house. He knew where they lived due to the school directory, but they never drove by there, not even to grab a few toys or anything. Bluestreak had never met their family, but he knew they were rich kids with an important sire who worked in the construction industry. To most he was an upstanding mech in the community, but he had his detractors. The rumor went around that Sunstroke, the twins' sire, owned gladiators in the illegal fighting circuit in Kaon. Of course no one had ever seen it. It was just a rumor.

Sometimes Bluestreak was jealous of all the cool things the twins' sire could afford to buy them. They had the best paint, the best frames, the best toys, and the best video games. Sunstreaker even had a personal trainer when he joined the school's racing team. Bluestreak's sire wouldn't even let him go out for sports because he feared his youngest sparkling getting hurt. Bluestreak sometimes felt his sire was too restrictive, and he just wanted to have fun and let loose sometimes.

One orn Bluestreak found himself alone in the house while his sire was at a conference in Iacon giving a lecture on open spark surgery. He thought about calling Prowl, but he knew his brother was busy with his studies. So, he went with the good old standby of comming the twins. Strangely though...they didn't answer. Sideswipe never ignored his comm. Never. Bluestreak has a bad feeling about this, but didn't want to panic. Still, he knew he should at least check on his friends.

Bluestreak left a quick note in case his sire got home before he did, and then drove off to the gated community where the twins lived. The guardian robot recognized the grey and red sparkling, so Bluestreak was admitted no problem. The houses in this neighborhood weren't as big as Bluestreak would've imagined, but they all boasted gold frames and beautiful perfectly maintained crystal lawns.

When Bluestreak got close to the front door of the twins' house he heard screaming that sounded like Sideswipe, but he couldn't tell if it was playful screaming or painful screaming. Well, only one way to find out. Bluestreak gulped once and then rapped on the door using the bronze door knocker that looked like a sharkticon's face.

"Answer it, boy!" A deep masculine voice could be heard hollering from the other side of the door.

Bluestreak almost backed away and ran, but then the door opened and he saw Sunstreaker standing in the doorway. The mechling didn't look hurt in any way, but his posture was tense and his optics darted between Bluestreak and the room beyond the doorway.

"Hi, Sunstreaker," Bluestreak greeted him quietly; feeling awkward at being at a house he was never invited to, "Sideswipe didn't answer his comm today. I wanted to know if you guys wanted to play."

"No Blue, not today," Sunstreaker replied quickly; in a hurry to make the other sparkling leave, "We're kinda busy here, so I gotta go."

"Okay, um, sure," Bluestreak stammered, "So um...is everything okay today?"

There was hesitation in Sunstreaker's expression as he turned from the doorway back to Bluestreak. It took a moment for the golden mechling to answer, but when he did Bluestreak's energon went cold.

"Yeah Blue, we're fine," Sunstreaker replied, "Everything's as sweet as oil cake in here. Say hi to your brother for me, okay?"

"Um... _okay_ ," Bluestreak replied slowly, trying to absorb what he just heard.

The door shut abruptly as Sunstreaker appeared to be in a hurry. Something was very wrong. Bluestreak knew it. Not only had Sunstreaker used the code word for the first time, but he asked Bluestreak to say hi to _Prowl_ ; a mech Sunstreaker didn't even know. Sunstreaker did know one thing about Prowl though; he had contacts in the police force. Bluestreak had to figure out what was going on.

Bluestreak went to the nearest window and peered inside; trying to stay inconspicuous. He didn't see anything, so he went around to the side of the house to try to find something there. He hid behind a aquamarine boulder and had to lift himself up on his tiptoes so he could see inside the higher-up window. When he did he almost wished he hadn't.

There was a shiny black mech, Sunstroke, sitting in a chair with Sideswipe draped over his knees. The larger mech was forcing electric cables into the seams of Sideswipe's armor at the small of his back and shocking him again and again. Sideswipe screamed in pain, and Sunstreaker stood off to the side watching in silent anger and helplessness. Sideswipe barely seemed conscious, yet was obviously in pain. Bluestreak couldn't believe it...

Their sire was abusing them.

Bluestreak let go of the window and ran into the spacious backyard of the twins' house. He was crying as he forced himself to comm Prowl; hoping against all hope that his brother would answer before that brute found out Bluestreak had been watching.

/Hello Bluestreak,/ Prowl answered with a placid greeting; a stark contrast to what was going on in Blue's part of the world, /I am rather busy right now, so if you could comm again later-/

/ _He's gonna kill Sideswipe!_ / Bluestreak sobbed into the comm; barely aware of what Prowl had said, /He was- and then the- the shocking and- Sunstreaker! _Oil cake!_ He never- and then you- he said-/

/Calm down, Bluestreak,/ Prowl ordered, /Obviously something is wrong. So, tell me from the beginning what happened./

/No time!/ Bluestreak wailed insistently, /Sideswipe's sire is gonna kill him! Please, I need an officer right now! Sideswipe's sire is hurting him with shock cables and he's gonna die! Please Prowl, hurry!/

Prowl growled on the other end of the comm, and then in an authoritative voice said /I'm on my way. Stay out of sight until I get there./

The comm was cut off then, and Bluestreak was once again alone with the nightmarish scene happening just beyond the walls of the nearby house. Bluestreak hugged himself and paced back and forth. What if Sideswipe died? Would Sunstreaker die too? Could a sire kill his own sparklings? Bluestreak had never thought of such a thing before. His own sire was strict but Bluestreak knew he was loved and that his sire would never hurt him.

Bluestreak had always thought of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker as lucky because of their wealth and popularity, but as he paced in their backyard he realized how lucky _he_ was to live in a house with love and respect.

Another scream emanated from the house, this time accompanied by an additional horrified scream from Sunstreaker, and Bluestreak knew then that he couldn't wait for the police to arrive. Whatever happened to him, he had to save his friends.

Thinking frantically, Bluestreak searched for a way into the house, but the back door was locked. Bluestreak was halfway to the front of the house when he noticed that one of the aquamarine crystals in the garden was loose. Before he could even process what he was doing, Bluestreak grabbed the gemstone and threw it at the window; shattering it.

"What the slag? Who broke me window!?" Sunstroke bellowed, and Bluestreak gasped and froze in panic.

The front door opened with an innocuous whoosh, and pedesteps violently stomped over to the side yard where Bluestreak was standing. Bluestreak's blue optics were wide as scraplet holes as he looked upon the harbinger of his doom.

"You break my window, youngling?" Sunstroke asked gruffly.

"Uh...uh..." Bluestreak, never in want of words, was now suddenly and surprisingly silent.

"Who's your sire?" Sunstroke interrogated him, "He's going to have to pay to repair my window. Come on, out with it sparkling! I want a name."

"N-No!" Bluestreak managed to say; unwilling to drag his sire into this mess, "I know what y-you d-did, you monster!"

"What on Cybertron are you talking about?" Sunstroke asked indignantly, " _You_ are the one who came onto _my_ property and threw _my_ crystal into _my_ window. Hooligans like you ought to be fed to wild cyberhounds. Now, get off my property!"

"No!" Bluestreak argued, finally finding a well of courage deep within himself, "You hurt Sideswipe! You tried to kill your own creation! I'm not sorry! I think you're the one that should be fed to cyberhounds, you bully!"

Sunstroke's faceplate contorted into a vicious glare. Bluestreak suddenly realized what a stupid idea it was to insult someone so much bigger and more powerful than himself. He backed against the privacy fence, and Sunstroke advanced closer to him. Bluestreak knew he was probably going to get the same shock treatment as Sideswipe, but he had run out of ideas and bravado. There was nothing he could do to save himself.

"Stop!" Sunstreaker suddenly hollered as he and a limping Sideswipe ran to stand next to him, "Leave him alone! Bluestreak is just a sparkling. He's two vorns younger than us, and you know how stupid sparklings are at that age. He doesn't know any better."

"I'm only 1.7 vorns younger!" Bluestreak snapped defensively despite the desperate situation.

" _Not helping_ ," Sunstreaker hissed in Bluestreak's audial receptor.

"You two get back in the house and let me deal with this ne'er do well," Sunstroke ordered his sons, "I don't want you hanging around this troublemaker ever again. Do you understand me?"

" _I'm_ a troublemaker!?" Bluestreak squawked before Sunstreaker could answer him, "I'm not the one that hurts his own kids! You don't deserve to be a sire! Your sparklings are too good for you!"

Upon hearing those words Sunstroke backhanded Bluestreak with such force that he was lifted in the air and fell hard on the ground a few meters away. Sideswipe clung to Sunstreaker in terror, and Sunstreaker watched in stunned silence as their friend grew a spinal strut right before their optics. The yellow sparkling was afraid for Bluestreak, but more than that he was impressed.

"I can tell from your armor that you're a middle caste mechling," Sunstroke growled maliciously, "I can make you disappear, boy. I have enough money and connections to smelt your body beyond recognition and pay off anyone that finds out the truth. You had your chance to leave us alone. Remember that."

Sunstroke then transformed his arm into a cannon and aimed it at the downed sparkling. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe saw this and immediately ran to shield their friend. Sunstroke hesitated firing when he saw his sons cowering over their friend, but rather than give up his endeavor he merely threw the boys out of the way one by one. Every time he would throw one twin away however the other would run back up to take his place. They weren't about to let Bluestreak be killed because of them.

"Get out of my line of fire, you scraplets!" Sunstroke screamed at his sons.

"Sire, please! We'll never see Blue again, just let him go!" Sideswipe begged.

"Yeah, this is our fault, not his," Sunstreaker added, "I was the one that told him to stay. I'm sorry, Sire. No one will believe anything he says about you. Just let him leave."

"It's too late for that, boys," Sunstroke replied firmly, "Now get out of my way so I can shoot that pest back to the pit where he came from."

"Not so fast!"

Everyone turned around at the sound of a new player, and saw that four police mechs had their weapons drawn on Sunstroke. He couldn't believe his optics that such a thing was happening to him, as many times as he had contributed to the police at their blasted charity auctions.

"Officers, this is all a misunderstanding," Sunstroke said silkenly in an effort to smooth things over, "The boys and I were just playing a game. No one was actually getting hurt, believe me."

"Bluestreak?" One of the younger cops turned to the sparkling, and Sunstroke noticed how much the two models seemed to favor each other in appearance.

"He was going to shoot me!" Bluestreak replied accusingly after Sunstreaker helped him get up, "He was hurting Sideswipe with power cables, and he was going to smelt me after he shot me. He said so. Right guys?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked conflicted. If they ratted out their sire and nothing happened then they would be killed for sure. Then again, if they were ever going to have a chance to escape their miserable lives then this was it. Finally, Sunstreaker came forward.

"That's exactly what he said, officer," Sunstreaker told the police, though he was glaring daggers at his sire as he said it, "Sire was going to kill Bluestreak in cold energon, even after Sides and I begged him not to. He uses the shock cables on us every time we do something wrong. I've passed out a few times, but Sideswipe gets it even worse than me. This was nothing compared to sometimes."

Sunstroke was getting angry at his son, but he knew better than to throttle the mechling right in front of the police.

"This was all my fault," Sideswipe added guiltily, "I got my frame dirty again, so Sire shocked me. He always uses shocks to our protoform because it won't mess up how we look. I should've washed up before going home, but I didn't think. Bluestreak was just trying to protect us, but he wouldn't have to if I had listened and kept my paint job clean."

The three younger cops had expressions on their faces that ranged from sympathetic to enraged at the sire to horrified that a sparkling could ever blame himself for his sire trying to take an innocent life. Fortunately the senior officer on duty still had his wits about him.

"Hold out your servo, Sunstroke," The eldest police mech ordered, and then attached a tracking chip to one of his servos, "You're under arrest under code 43-2.4 subsection 45 D, abuses and endangerment of a sparkling as well as subsection 24 D, attempted murder of a sparkling. Your lawyer may offer council within your prison cell. Your comm will be disconnected and any resistance will be met with as much force as necessary to detain you, followed by further penalties. Now, follow me back to the station."

Sunstroke was then forced in front of his equally affluent neighbors to drive away with the large semi-former police officer. Bluestreak breathed out air he didn't realize his intake had been holding, and the twins leaned against the fence to keep themselves from falling down in exhaustion and relief.

"Hey Prowl?" Bluestreak addressed his brother, "Who was that big guy?"

"That was my instructor, Commander Ultra Magnus," Prowl replied, "And these two are my roommates and dear friends, Barricade and Jazz."

"Nice ta meet'cha, kiddos," Jazz replied genially, "I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances though."

"I hope that guy's cellmate transforms into a really sharp knife," Barricade growled as he looked in the direction where they drove away.

"Hey 'Cade, not in front of his sparklings!" Jazz chided his friend, "You remember our sensitivity training."

"I also remember what they do to guys like that in prison," Barricade smirked unapologetically, "So, you kids got any place to go?"

"We'll figure something out," Sunstreaker shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe our Aunt Stunner or our Cousin Red Alert. We'll be okay."

"Are you sure?" Bluestreak asked worriedly, "What if they hurt you too?"

"Then we'll call you again," Sideswipe replied half-jokingly, "I've gotta say, I've never seen you stand up to _anyone_ like that. I was almost impressed."

"Bluestreak, you should have waited for us," Prowl scolded his little brother, "That was dangerous. Sunstroke has connections with organized crime. You were mere kliks away from termination. Do you have any idea how much it would hurt me and Sire to lose you?"

"I know it was stupid," Bluestreak replied contritely, "But they could've died. I had to save my friends. Sunny and Sides are like two extra brothers to me."

"We are?" Sideswipe asked; touched, "Well...I guess we're pretty close to you too. I mean, no one has ever done anything like that for us. You stood up to _Sire_! There are senators that can't do that, but you did it. We'll never forget this, Blue."

"Yeah," Sunstreaker nodded shakily, the events of the orn finally catching up with his processor, "And Prowl sir? Thank you for coming to save us too. You and your friends are amazing. You saved our lives. Thank you."

"What's this?" Sideswipe exclaimed playfully, "Sunny, with emotions? I'm guessing we must've died or something! Ha!"

Sunstreaker glared at Sideswipe, but it was a playful glare. Jazz and Barricade laughed at the antics of the sparklings, and Bluestreak laughed more in relief than humor. Whatever happened, Bluestreak was sure things would work out better for the twins. Anything had to be better than an abusive oversized bully for an authority figure.

* * *

Bluestreak laid there on his berth as he recalled that day. It was only 4 deca-orns after that event that Praxus was destroyed by the Decepticons. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had lied about the aunt and cousin. Well, those people were real, but they were in no position to take in sparklings. The twins had been in a foster care facility in Iacon when Praxus fell, which ironically enough had saved their lives since they were nowhere near the scene of the destruction.

Bluestreak still wondered what became of the terror twins. Did they join the Autobots? Did they become Vehicons? Maybe even join the Decepticons? That last one seemed unlikely given their small frames and playful natures. That level of fun wasn't allowed in the Decepticons.

Bluestreak had asked Ratchet about the twins, but he hadn't seen them since they were sparklings. None of the other Autobots had even heard of them, so that left Bluestreak at square one. It was likely that they were Vehicons now...or dead.

"Hey Jazz," Bluestreak whispered in the darkness amid his slumbering Vehicons roommates, "Jazz! Are you online?"

"Ugh, I am now," Jazz replied groggily, "Everythin' alright?"

"Do you remember when you, Prowl, and Barricade saved two mechlings named Sunstreaker and Sideswipe?" Bluestreak asked.

"Yeah, I remember, vaguely," Jazz replied, "Their sire was an abusive glitch. I think he died in prison after an accident in a boiler room."

"Yeah, them," Bluestreak confirmed, "You haven't been a Vehicon as long as I have, so I was wondering if you know what happened to them after the war started."

"Naw, can't say that I do," Jazz shrugged from where he lay on his berth, "You gotta understand, split spark twins are rare for a reason. Their sparks are weaker because of only bein' half-formed. Those two probably didn't live past their third frames. A final upgrade would be hard on them. Even if they did live that long, the war would take its toll on such vulnerable young mechs. The 'Cons probably got them before they could even learn how to shoot a gun. I'm sorry Bluestreak, but I doubt they're still livin'."

"I just wish I knew," Bluestreak lamented, "They were like family to me. I know to everyone else it was a lifetime ago, but those two are my last missing link to the life I lived before Megatron stole my future from me. I can't have Prowl, but maybe if we could find Sunny and Sides...I don't know. Maybe I'd have someone to talk to about the old days besides Sire. I love Sire, but he wasn't the one that went on those crazy adventures with me or understood what school was like back then. That was the twins. I feel like they understood me on a level no one else around here does. I just wish I knew..."

"I wish I could help ya, but I can't," Jazz replied apologetically, "All we can do is save as many Vehicons as possible. Maybe someday we'll find the twins, maybe we won't. Either way, there are hundreds of Vehicons left that had lives stolen from them too. All we can do is help them get back what they lost."

"Thanks, Jazz," Bluestreak whispered gratefully, "You know something? You're kind of like a brother to me too. Especially since you knew Prowl better than anyone. I'm sorry you got turned into a Vehicon, but I'm glad you're here now."


	27. Frenzied

_Author's Notes: Well, I didn't mean for the Decepticons to dominate this chapter, but the flow of this one works better without a diversion from the character arc presented here. Also, for the past few months I had been trying to only upload new chapters on Friday, but I'm getting sick of that. I work better if I can be unpredictable, so I'm going back to posting whenever I feel like it. In this chapter I loosely based Frenzy's personlity off his initial IDW self, just to make the character feel a little less comical than his G1 self. I hope you guys like this chapter, and that I can read your lovely reviews :)_

* * *

Chapter 27

Frenzied

After the Damocles mission had failed Cylas had been given to Knockout to do with as he pleased and Soundwave had gone back to trying to solve a very difficult puzzle. He had taken VS-5001 and PLX-7205 to the brig, but had not informed Megatron of what he was doing. Soundwave didn't like to keep secrets from his master and friend, but if that Vehicon was indeed his poor little Frenzy then he could allow nothing to stand in the way of getting his symbiotic back...not even Megatron.

It had been a couple days since Soundwave had first been told about Frenzy's possible transformation into a drone, and his research wasn't yielding much in the way of results. Yes, Frenzy's last known location had been Polyhex and PLX-7205 had been built in Polyhex during the final siege of the city-state, but that was all circumstantial evidence. Soundwave needed more.

The memories of that fateful night, a night Soundwave had worked so hard to suppress from his processor, were returning with full force. Frenzy had gone on so many spy missions in his life, but he had died when he was on guard duty; a much more mundane task than what the minicon was used to. Megatron himself had regretfully informed Soundwave that Frenzy had been terminated by an unruly prisoner and was assured that the Autobot that did this to Frenzy had been punished, but now Soundwave wondered if Megatron had lied to him.

After exhaustive searching and little to show for it, Soundwave decided that there was only one way to find out the truth, though it was a risky option. He would have to order Knockout to restore the drone's memories. If it was Frenzy then Soundwave would have his symbiotic back, and if it was a miserable Autobot then Soundwave would kill it. Either way it was the quickest method to uncovering the truth.

Soundwave made his way toward the medbay, but before the doors even opened he could hear desperate masculine screams. He recognized the voice as belonging to Cylas, and when the door opened it only confirmed Soundwave's assumption.

Cylas was strapped to a medical berth, and Knockout was hovering over him with his shock prod at the ready. Cylas's look of fear was almost unnerving, though Soundwave had seen such looks before. He was surprised at the utter glee Knockout was exhibiting at the moment however. While Knockout was a careless individual and could be vindictive when it came to his paint job, Soundwave had never seen the mech in full-on revenge mode before.

"No, not the acid! Not again!" Cylas pleaded, "Don't you recognize me, Knockout? It's me, Breakdown! I'm Breakdown!"

"Say it again," Knockout lilted as he hovered a jar of acrid liquid over Cylas's helm, "Make me believe it this time, and maybe I'll stop."

Soundwave waited to be noticed, but Knockout was too focused on his current prey to give heed to the communications officer. As Soundwave observed the torture session his gaze drifted over to the pile of Vehicon parts in the corner that was slowly starting to take up a lot of space in the medbay. It reminded Soundwave of just how lazy Knockout had become since Breakdown had died. Now that Knockout was the only medical professional on board the ship he was virtually untouchable. If Frenzy was brought here then who was to say he would get proper medical treatment from the prissy medic?

Soundwave thought for a moment on what could be done about this. The Eradicon that had brought all this to Soundwave's attention claimed to be Thundercracker. That would fit his serial number since Megatron had punished him for betraying the cause by freeing Autobot Jazz. He had also claimed that Starscream was the one that performed the surgery that freed his processor from its programming prison. If Starscream freed Thundercracker's mind, the he could free Frenzy's as well.

His mind made up, Soundwave silently walked out of the medbay; his pede steps drowned out by Cylas's screams for mercy. Knockout was not an option anymore. If Soundwave wanted to save his symbiote he would have to go through Starscream.

* * *

Starscream waited for Thundercracker to contact him for over a day with no results. He feared that his brother had been discovered by Megatron somehow and could have either been killed or else had a new chip implanted into his processor. It didn't help Starscream's pessimism that he hadn't refueled since Thundercracker left. They were out of energon, yet Starscream didn't want to leave to search for more until he was sure Thundercracker would return, hopefully with more Vehicons to turn to their side.

Starscream was about to give up when he got the comm he was hoping for.

/Starscream, we're gonna need a ground bridge. I'm returning with two others in tow./

/You found two Vehicons? This is very good news indeed,/ Starscream replied gleefully as he steepled his claws together, /Are they Vehicons or Eradicons?/

/Um, one is a Vehicon, and the other is...Soundwave,/ Thundercracker admitted sheepishly.

/ _Soundwave_!? Are you _insane_?/ Starscream screeched into the comm, /He'll tell Megatron where I am! He'll kill us both! Abort the mission! Repeat, abort the mission!/

/I can't,/ Thundercracker replied ruefully, /Soundwave is bringing us, well...you're not gonna believe this Starscream, but Frenzy was turned into a Vehicon drone. Soundwave won't turn us in if he ever wants Frenzy back./

/Frenzy? The symbiote?/ Starscream asked incredulously, /I heard he died during a prison riot./

/Oh yeah? Well what did you hear about me?/ Thundercracker asked rhetorically.

Starscream couldn't say anything more. It was honestly more shocking learning about Frenzy than it was learning about Thundercracker though. Starscream understood that Megatron would lie to him. Megatron had grown to hate Starscream, so it would make sense that Starscream's trine meant nothing to him. Soundwave however...that was Megatron's only true friend. How could Megatron punish one of his best friend's children in such a cruel and unnatural manner? No, children wasn't even the right word. Symbiotes were literally a piece of their host's spark. Frenzy, like Laserbeak, was an actual part of Soundwave.

/Starscream, where's that bridge?/ Thundercracker asked impatiently.

/Oh, right. Sorry,/ Starscream stammered, lost in his own thoughts for a moment, /I'm activating the bridge now. I just hope this is the right decision./

The swirling lime green vortex came into being, and a moment later two fliers entered the room; one with a car strapped to the underside. After everyone had landed they transformed; one grey Eradicon, one purple Vehicon, and one midnight blue mech. Even after knowing him for so many vorns Starscream was still slightly terrified of Soundwave, though being a fugitive made this feeling even worse than usual.

"H-Hello, Soundwave," Starscream stuttered as he subconsciously backed away from the slender yet imposing figure, "I heard that you needed...my...assistance, with something, yes?"

Soundwave pointed to the confused looking Vehicon standing stock still in the middle of the room.

"Repair him," Soundwave commanded in Megatron's voice.

"I-I-I'm not broken!" The Vehicon stammered nervously; knowing what _repair_ meant in context lately, "It's this Eradicon! He claims to be your trine brother, a real mech! He's delusional, and he wants to take me down with him!"

"That is my brother," Starscream informed him, much to the drone's shock, "And you are most likely Soundwave's symbiote. Now, get on the table. I promise that the procedure is not fatal. Whether it restores your memories or not is more of a crap shoot."

Soundwave heard this, and immediately took a menacing step toward Starscream.

"But, uh, I'm getting better at it!" Starscream assured the silent mech so he wouldn't incur Soundwave's wrath, "Don't worry, we'll fix this. If this is indeed Frenzy, then he will wake up remembering everything. If he is not, then nothing was lost and we can shoot the newly restored Autobot before he or she becomes a threat."

"Wait, what was that last part?" The Vehicon asked apprehensively.

"He said get on the table," Thundercracker interjected threateningly, "Do you disobey real mechs?"

Thundercracker hated to use such a tactic, but he knew from personal experience that it would make the process go faster. Just as predicted, Frenzy rushed over to the operating table and stared straight up at the ceiling in compliance with Starscream's original order.

"This will work, right?" Soundwave asked in Knockout's voice.

"Of course it will work," Starscream replied defensively, "Just sit down so I can concentrate! I can't work with you hovering over me like that!"

Soundwave would normally never allow Starscream to speak to him that way, but he was too worried about Frenzy to argue. He sat down on the floor against the wall, and was soon joined by the Eradicon that was apparently Thundercracker. The situation didn't even feel real to Soundwave. He had mourned for the loss of five of his symbiotes and had carried that emptiness in his spark for so long. He was protective of Laserbeak because she was all he had left. To even imagine getting one of his own back, even in a Vehicon's form, felt too good to be true. If it was true though, the question became how did this happen? He only hoped Frenzy could answer that for him.

Starscream turned off the pain receptors of the drone and began to induce stasis in the Vehicon. PLX-7205 didn't know what was going to happen to him during this surgery, but he hoped that he didn't wake up on the Decepticons' enemies list. If what everyone said was true though, he was going to earn a very favored place with Soundwave, Megatron's most trusted officer. If that were the case, then any pain he experienced would be worth it...

* * *

..."And the winner of the qualifying match is Soundwave!" The referee shouted, followed by the roaring of the crowds.

They were in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon, Soundwave and his six symbiotes, and Soundwave had bested yet another opponent. The loser was allowed to limp away, which was the preferred outcome for the family of seven. Soundwave and his symbiotes were forced to fight since they were slaves of a rich mech named Surefire, but they didn't enjoy killing their opponents and preferred to avoid it when they could.

Soundwave's symbiotes made Soundwave look tougher since they each comprised a part of him. Rumble and Frenzy were Soundwave's shoulder guards, Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were Soundwave's chest plate and back plate respectively, Ratbat was Soundwave's shield, and Ravage was an arm cannon attached to Soundwave's right forearm. The combination of this armor made Soundwave look much bigger than he actually was.

Back in their stable, which was the term for a gladiator's room, Soundwave wanted to just deflate and fall over. He knew better than to do that however. To show weakness even in downtime risked earning a beating from his master. Instead he carefully walked to his dresser and sat down as deliberately as he could so the cameras would pick up no pain or even relaxation from him.

"Hey Soundwave, how much energon do we have?" Rumble asked as soon as everyone had transformed into robot mode.

"Don't make him get up," Ratbat admonished, "Go check the cupboard yourself!"

Rumble harrumphed at Ratbat but did as he was told. When he checked for energon he found four small packets of energon sweets. It wasn't the type of fuel that would last, but if they were very careful everyone could get a little. Rumble passed out each tiny square carefully, but Soundwave insisted he had already refueled earlier and didn't need it. They knew he was lying, but they also knew he wouldn't take energon if it meant his symbiotes got less. Reluctantly everyone except Soundwave started eating.

"I saw rust spots suddenly pop up on our enemy today," Frenzy quietly said to Rumble, "Were they really there?"

"No, Frenzy," Rumble replied casually, "I got cobalt flavor. Which one did you get?"

"Copper," Frenzy shrugged, "Wanna trade?"

"Yeah," Rumble replied.

They traded their candies and both ate a little faster since they were enjoying their so-called meal more.

"Hey Rumble."

"Yeah, Frenzy?"

"I also saw an audience member hit the mech next to him with a briefcase. Did that happen?"

"I don't know," Rumble replied, "I wasn't looking at the audience."

"Oh, okay."

Frenzy only talked to Rumble about the hallucinations he saw from time to time. From the moment he was built his processor had been defective. He was as smart and capable as his siblings in most respects, but every now and then he would see something that wasn't there. Sometimes it was as harmless as seeing a figure standing there that didn't exist, and sometimes it was as bad as seeing someone's face melt off or seeing someone wielding a weapon coming for Soundwave. Soundwave was very patient with Frenzy, and his siblings didn't make him feel bad about it, but they still kept the condition a secret from Surefire lest Frenzy be killed and melted down for parts.

It wasn't fair. Frenzy knew of rich mechs that had this same condition. They would just get their processor rewired at a medic and never had to suffer the delusions again. Soundwave was a slave though, and therefore had no money. Whatever he had was given to him by his master, and he would never be able to afford to fix his creation. Frenzy eventually learned to live with it, and would just ask Rumble what was real since his twin didn't suffer from the illusion defect...

* * *

...In the Decepticon ranks all of Soundwave's symbiotes had been assigned to become spies for Megatron's cause since they were among the smallest members of the Decepticons. Frenzy hated this job because a spy with the illusion defect wasn't reliable, but they would get around this problem by having Frenzy always work with one of his siblings.

Soundwave and Megatron were friends, but Soundwave was a protective host. He figured that Megatron, being raised in the same dismissive system that was so prevalent on their world, would consider a defective Decepticon useless and order Frenzy to be executed. Soundwave could never let that happen, so he never told his new master about his creation's condition.

For many vorns this worked well for the team, but eventually their failures caught up with them. Ratbat was the first to die when Soundwave used him as a shield per usual, unaware that their opponent had been firing corrosive acid pellets. They were too far away from the nearest medbay to save Ratbat, and Soundwave felt personally responsible for his youngest symbiote's demise.

The next one to go was Buzzsaw when Soundwave was shot from behind and the cannon blast penetrated Buzzsaw's armor. It had been an experimental weapon they had never faced before, and after what Soundwave did to that mech Frenzy would've been surprised if the weapon was ever used again.

For a long time the four remaining symbiotes did well as espionage agents. The only one Soundwave would even take into battle anymore was Ravage since the cat-con turned into a cannon. As it turned out it wouldn't even be an enemy that got to the metallic feline. During the battle of Gilgahex Ravage contracted cosmic rust along with over two dozen other warriors. Before the plague was contained 16 Decepticons had died, including Ravage. The medic had said Ravage's body was just too small to fight off the infection.

This left only three; Rumble, Frenzy, and Laserbeak. Soundwave was now especially worried about them going on missions for Megatron. The symbiotes assured Soundwave that they were qualified however, and he compromised by allowing them to spy but never again to engage in frontal combat.

This idea worked for a while, but then something went wrong.

It had all gone well for most of their mission. Rumble and Frenzy were supposed to go into Iacon, learn about the Prime's latest plan of attack, and return to Kaon with the information. Getting the information was surprisingly easy. With the recent loss of Prowl the Autobots were still trying to regain their bearings and figure out who would be the new commander of the New Polyhex space station. The twins learned that there would be a massive cargo shuttle going to that space station to deliver energon, and that Jazz was going to be its new commander.

Rumble and Frenzy wasted no time heading back to their home base to divulge this information. As it turned out it wouldn't be an Autobot that dealt them a fatal blow that orn. On their way through the Mangan Desert Rumble's pede stepped on a land mine; killing him instantly and injuring Frenzy.

Frenzy had managed to comm Soundwave for help, but there was nothing to be done for Rumble; who was little more than a few shards of metal at that point. Soundwave tended to Frenzy for his entire recovery, and vowed that Frenzy would never be put in such a position again.

* * *

...Frenzy was so bored. He had been serving as a prison guard in Polyhex for two orns, and he was already bored out of his processor. Frenzy didn't want to be a prison guard, but Soundwave had asked Megatron to give Frenzy a position where he wouldn't have to be on the front lines. Megatron himself had given Frenzy this post guarding Autobots and Empties that had been captured alive, so Frenzy couldn't exactly say no.

There were a few other guards; Brawl, Demolisher, and their medic Vortex. Frenzy didn't know any of them very well and he didn't care to. He knew they were just guarding future Vehicon parts, so it seemed ridiculous to become emotionally invested in any part of this slagging operation.

With this thought in mind Frenzy made his rounds marching along the electrified fence that separated the prisoners from the rest of the world. Most of the Autobots he saw were the standard retrofitted civilians-turned-warriors. They were taller than him, they all looked either hopeless or angry, and most of them had already been beaten to slag and starved of energon. It was pretty easy to keep this group in line.

As Frenzy looked inside the fence however his optic caught sight of a mech that was just as small as he was. The Autobot symbiote was a solid red color with tiny blue optics, and was using a piece of scrap metal to draw on the ground next to the fence. Frenzy wasn't used to seeing other symbiotes since his kind was so rare, and despite the different factions he felt compelled to talk to this new prisoner.

"Hey half pint, who are you?" Frenzy asked rudely to disguise his genuine interest.

"Get lost, Decepticon creep," The tiny Autobot growled, "I've had a _real bad_ orn, and I'd rather not have to look at your ugly mug right now."

"Yeah, well too bad. I'm the guard around here and if I want you to look at me you'll stare at me all orn long!" Frenzy snapped in an effort to intimidate the newcomer.

"Just leave me alone," The Autobot sighed wearily, "You're winning, okay? You've lobbed a double pass and now the ball is crushing your opponents. You've taken our homes, destroyed our culture, and killed our loved ones. What more could you possibly do to me that hasn't already been done?"

Normally Frenzy wouldn't care about an Autobot complaining about their precious _former way of life_. He knew what the caste system had done to their world, he had lived it, but this felt different. Frenzy wondered if he was just imagining things since he had lost Rumble, but he couldn't help but wonder...

"Did you lose a host or a sibling?" Frenzy asked.

"My twin," The Autobot replied matter-of-factly, "Just last orn. I...I don't know what to do without him. My host has been pretty upset too. He's been quiet since we got here. He's never quiet! Everything's falling apart! Why has this war been in overtime for so long? Why can't this nightmare just _end_ already!?"

"You're not gonna believe this, but I had a twin too, and I lost him just a few stellar cycles ago," Frenzy related, "His name was Rumble, and he was the one that kept me sane. I don't think I'm sane without him, and to be honest I'm not even sure you're real."

"I'm real, though I wish I wasn't," The Autobot symbiote replied, "So your dead twin's name was Rumble. I guess that makes you Frenzy."

"Yeah. How'd you know?" Frenzy asked in shock.

"My host wa assigned to spy on Soundwave," The Autobot informed him, "Yeah, that was a dumb idea. Soundwave sees everything."

"Yeah, he does," Frenzy chuckled lightly, happy for the change in subject, "So, what's your designation, Autobot?"

"Eject," The Autobot replied, "My brother's name was Rewind. Pit, it's so weird to say _was_. My host's name is Blaster, and he's around here somewhere. He only had us two symbiotes, though his spark looks ready to split any orn now so he might make more."

"So what part of your host are you?" Frenzy asked curiously.

"Right shoulder guard," Eject answered.

"No fragging way! Me too!" Frenzy cried out happily, "Wow, we both had twins and both have the same alt mode. Mech, I wish you were a Decepticon. It feels like we were meant to be best friends."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it is nice to meet another team player," Eject replied sincerely, "So many mechs I see out there are only in it for themselves. We symbiotes though, we know the meaning of teamwork."

"Ain't it the truth?" Frenzy replied agreeably, "Listen Eject, I'm not supposed to do this, but how would you like me to get you and your host some energon? I know hosts require a lot of fuel to keep themselves going, and you need to keep your strength up after being severed from such a close sibling bond."

"Why are you so concerned about me? I'm an Autobot," Eject pointed out, "You 'Cons are trying to exterminate us."

"I...uh...well..." Frenzy stammered, not knowing how to answer, "I don't know why I wanna help you, but I do. Come on Eject, it's foolish to turn down free sympathy. Just let me help you now, and we'll figure out what to do later. Maybe I can get Soundwave to put in a good word for you and Blaster; get you guys transferred to a better prison camp. Maybe one where they give out energon."

"That's a terrible plan," Eject replied flatly, but then in a softer tone said, "Thanks."

* * *

...For the next five orns Frenzy faithfully brought two energon cubes to his post and threw them over the fence for Eject and Blaster. Frenzy didn't speak to Blaster much, but he and Eject had spoken about every subject they could think of. They would talk about their lost brothers, their plans for the future, and more. As it turned out Eject was interested in sports and enjoyed hearing Frenzy's stories about back when he was a gladiator with Soundwave and the other cassettes.

On this particular orn Frenzy showed up as usual to the spot at the fence where he would talk to Eject, but instead of waiting for him Eject was running around the grounds like a madmech.

"What are you doing?" Frenzy asked as he watched Eject's frantic pacing.

"Frenzy! Thank the Allspark!" Eject shouted hurriedly, "Listen, you're a guard here right? You know what's going on in this place, right?"

"Dude, calm down," Frenzy interjected when he saw how distressed Eject looked, "What happened?"

"When I woke up a bunch of mechs and femmes were missing from the barracks, including Blaster! When I went to sleep I was on his shoulder like usual, but when I woke up I was on the berth alone! Please, where did they all go? Frenzy, tell me the truth! What happened to them?"

"I don't know," Frenzy shrugged, "Maybe Brawl finally got around to installing that mess hall we talked about. Don't worry, I'll help you look for him. We'll find him and everything will be alright."

"Thanks, pal," Eject replied gratefully, "It ain't like him to ditch like that."

Frenzy walked around the fence until he found an entrance where he could enter the general prisoner's quarters. He didn't want to alarm Eject by telling him, but Frenzy had never really explored the prison yard. He always guarded from the outside and then when his shift was over he would eat in the officers' mess hall and then go to his own quarters to recharge.

As Frenzy and Eject walked he saw a small shack that he could tell gave Eject chills. When Frenzy saw the sign on the door that read _medbay_ he understood why. Vortex was nothing more than a glorified butcher that enjoyed the suffering of his victims way too much for Frenzy's taste. Having him as a medic was like having Megatron as...well, a medic.

They walked for several breems until they finally found a bunch of the missing mechs in line near a large cube shaped building with Demolisher guarding the door.

"See? They're all in line. It's gotta be a new mess hall," Frenzy assured his new friend, "Blaster's probably already inside chowing down."

"Whew, thank goodness," Eject sighed in relief, "We should go in though, just to make sure."

"Yeah, good idea," Frenzy nodded, "We're pretty small, so we should be able to get in and out undetected. You know, just in case it's a work detail or something."

Eject nodded and together they walked between the legs of several prisoners to get to the front of the line. Before they could reach it however, Demolisher called for everyone to hurry up and get inside. When the crowd started walking Frenzy and Eject were carried away with the rest of the mob.

When everyone was inside the doors closed abruptly behind them. Frenzy and Eject tried to look around to see what was going on, and Frenzy noted that the door didn't have motion recognition for the inside. So, it was locked to them and could only be opened from the outside. There was also nothing in this room except the entrance door and another door on the other side. The crowds murmured, but no one seemed to know where they actually were.

"Hey Frenzy, what's going on?" Eject hissed, "Where are we?"

Frenzy looked at the thickness of the metal walls, the door, and the other door that had yet to open. Frenzy had seen facilities similar to this one before in other cities, but he didn't know there was one directly in the Polyhex Prison Camp. If his suspicions were correct however...

"Aw, scrap," Frenzy cursed under his breath.

"What is it?" Eject asked, a growing sense of dread of the unknown.

As the soft spoken murmurs continued, Frenzy suddenly hopped on top of a prisoner's shoulders and shouted "Everybody listen to me!"

Everyone turned to him questioningly, knowing he was one of their Decepticon guards.

"Everyone, we gotta bust down this door!" Frenzy cried out, "The room is soundproof and comm signals don't work in here. We don't have much time, move!"

"But why?" An elderly mech asked in confusion.

"Because we're all about to be turned to scrap!" Frenzy yelled as quickly as he could, "Behind that door is a machine that disassembles live mechs and uses their parts to make Vehicons! We're all gonna die if we don't get out!"

" _What_!?" Eject shouted in outrage and shock.

Everyone else however was panicking, finally understanding what was at stake. They followed Frenzy's advice and started using the bulk of their bodies to slam into the door to try to save themselves. The room shook, but the door and the walls didn't budge. Whether it was the strength of the door or the lack of fuel in their systems, the prisoenrs couldn't break free. Frenzy and Eject found themselves pushed to the front of the room where the assembly door was. The crowd continued to push, but nothing was working.

Suddenly, the assembly door opened, causing the crowd to scream when they saw the large claw coming straight toward them. Everyone backed away, and the claw grabbed hold of Eject's torso and started dragging him away.

" _No_!" Frenzy screamed as he lunged for Eject.

Frenzy grabbed hold of Eject's arms and tried to pull him away from the gaping maw of the soulless insatiable beast. Frenzy's heels dug into the floor and his joints nearly dislocated from the strain. Hard as he pulled however, it was having little effect as the claw continued to pull Eject closer to his doom.

"Let go of me, Frenzy!" Eject shouted, "You can still save yourself! I can buy you guys some time, just help them tear down the door!"

"No way slagger! I'm not leaving you!" Frenzy insisted as he pulled even harder.

For the next two breems the crowd tried to break down the door while Frenzy pulled on Eject's arms in an effort to free him. Frenzy's strength waned however, and it was getting harder to keep up the struggle against a machine that would never get tired. The claw finally won when Frenzy could no longer pull, but he didn't let go. Frenzy and Eject were forced into the disassembly chamber together, and faced the acid and claws of death together...

* * *

...Frenzy awoke realizing that he had failed. He was in a dark room on an operating table, and he remembered that Soundwave had brought him to Starscream to get his memories back. So, it had happened. Frenzy was a Vehicon, and if Eject still lived then he was a Vehicon too.

As the Vehicon turned his helm the first thing he saw was Soundwave and Starscream standing next to his berth. Starscream looked nervous, and Soundwave's visor gave away nothing.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything, drone?" Starscream asked impatiently.

Soundwave waited to see if this Vehicon was Frenzy or someone else. His intakes stalled, and he found himself oddly hoping that this shell of a mech was his symbiote. The Vehicon turned his visor to Soundwave, and then uttered the words that left no doubt in the host's processor.

"Soundwave...Are you real?"


End file.
